


Zephyr

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Drama & Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Illustrated by Lexie, Marriage of Convenience, Romance, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, sherlolly remix challenge 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 69,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The friendship that Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper shared when they were younger had changed significantly over the years. And when Sherlock finds that Molly's trust in that friendship had faltered because of his own carelessness, he comes up with quite an interesting plan to show her that he still cares for her very much...a plan that will bring about many more changes than they both anticipate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amalia Kensington (amaliak01)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliak01/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Winds of Change](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966905) by [Writingwife83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83). 



> Hello, readers! Oh how very excited I am to finally be sharing this fic! First off, I will start by thanking Lexie (aka artbylexie on tumblr) who was truly the reason this got written in the first place. She's the one that suggested I remix my old fic "Winds of Change" and she came up with the basic angle of how I could do it. We plot planned A LOT together and she is responsible for many of the lovely scene ideas that you'll be reading. So although I was the one who physically typed the words, I can honestly say that you would not be reading this if it weren't for her! And she was also kind enough to do the general beta reading for each chapter. Such huge help all around!
> 
> Oh and speaking of artbylexie, here's another tiny little announcement...ok jk, it's not tiny, it's really really big and awesome...LEXIE HAS ILLUSTRATED THIS FIC!! :D I could not have been more excited when she told me she'd love to collaborate on this. What could be better lol?! Now you get to enjoy original art to bring some of these fun scenes to life. Some chapters already contain an illustration at the bottom, and some have art coming in the near future. So stay tuned hehe! I am forever grateful that she was inspired enough to want to do this, and I know you'll love the illustrations as much as I do. So in case I haven't already given you enough reasons to thank her, now you've got another huge one! Please show this talented woman some serious love for the amazing work she's done with this fic! ;)
> 
> And now I'll for sure stop babbling and let you get to reading...enjoy! ;D
> 
> *1/5/17 Edit*- To listen to this fic on audio, (thanks to Aunt Didi) click the link for "other works inspired by this one."

Molly cursed herself even as she knelt down beside her bed and reached under to pull out the wooden box. She cursed herself again as she made note of how it wasn't even dust covered. The dust wasn't ever given enough time to settle, seeing as the pristine little box was taken out and opened far too often for that. It was foolish, and she knew that she shouldn't keep reliving the memories. But oh, they were lovely memories. Months and years of that delicious faint glimmer of hope. Sherlock had given her that much…at least until he inexplicably took it all away.

They'd grown up together, Molly and Sherlock, and had been childhood friends. Emotions naturally fell into place for Molly. She fell in love with him before she even understood what romance and attraction was. By the time they were no longer children, her heart had long since belonged to only him. Sherlock's heart though, seemed to pull him in a different direction. He wooed and won the desire of his heart the first chance he got: London.

Sherlock moved to London some six years ago to become a detective and to live his life feeding off the activity and excitement that the city had to offer. Molly, of course, stayed in the countryside with her family. Her father, the county Doctor, kindly indulged her interest in medicine for quite some time. Molly had dreams as big as Sherlock, but the closest she could seem to get was to assist her father where possible. Unfortunately, even that came to a sudden halt a couple of years ago when Dr. Hooper died, leaving his wife and two girls on their own, though still financially stable.

Molly contented herself with occasional midwifery since then, helping to lighten the load of the other three women in the area. And although she enjoyed it, it wasn't all she ever wanted to do. She dreamed of attending a real medical school and becoming not just a doctor, but a specialist in the field of pathology. It was what thrilled her, and she wanted to live her life like that every day. She loved nothing more than to learn of women like Elizabeth Garrett Anderson and Ann Preston, and to remind herself that this was what she knew she was truly meant to do.

She reached into the box and picked out an article that had been cut out of The Strand. Molly couldn't help but smile as she read the dozen little notes that were scribbled by Sherlock's in the margins. Things like, "Watson got this part wrong," and "one of the most important details is missing here…" And the newspaper clippings were just part of what Sherlock would send by post. He would also write letters. They certainly weren't love letters, but to Molly they did convey an attachment he felt to her. He would detail cases, his process of deductions, his dealings and frustrations with Scotland Yard, and most thrilling of all, he would share some things about Bart's hospital from time to time. It was lovely, and Molly had to admit that she absolutely lived for the moment she would see an envelope arrive from London.

She chewed her lip as she reached down and picked up the latest, and last, of Sherlock's letters. She still didn't fully know what to make of it, and goodness knows she had read it enough times to memorize the very brief content. All it said was…

_Dear Molly Hooper,_

_My apologies, but I will not be continuing to correspond. Please accept my best wishes for your health and happiness…you deserve it._

_Your friend,_

_Sherlock Holmes_

Molly folded the small letter up and shoved it back in the box. Rereading that one was usually what prompted her to frustratedly push the memories back under her bed…at least till the next time.

It had been nine long months since she'd received that last letter, leaving Molly to theorize just about every possible explanation and scenario under the sun. Not only was she concerned for him and his literal safety, but she was also imagining other unpleasant things like, Sherlock having met a woman in London and fallen in love. He may have always balked at marriage, but Molly still doubted that he lacked all ability to fall in love. It could have happened, and she daily searched in the newspapers for the bans with her heart in their throat, and oh how the unknown was eating her up inside!

The fact that Sherlock's letters usually arrived every one to two months made Molly more convinced every day that he had really meant what he said. In addition to the fact that the few letters she sent had received no reply. The correspondence between them was over…their friendship was over. And as she told herself time and time again, it was time for her to face that and stop living in the past.

All these things put together made it especially surprising when Molly was later disturbed from the quiet solitude of a book by the heavy knocking at her door, only to open it and see…Sherlock Holmes.

Molly gaped at the man who wore a casual half smile. "M- Mr. Holmes…" She didn't even know what to say beyond that.

"Ah, good afternoon, Miss Hooper. Glad to catch you at home. As you may already guess, I am visiting my parents; a brief visit, just till next week. I imagine you and your family are well." He paused only a millisecond before continuing. "I was hoping that I could trouble you for a couple of your father's old tools. I imagine you still keep them, even if they're not in use…sentiment is on our side in this instance! So, perhaps you would have a scalpel and clamps on hand?"

Molly barely registered what he said, besides the fact that it was completely rude. She couldn't really move past the fact that he was standing here in front of her. "B- but you…what happened to you?"

Sherlock frowned. "To what are you referring?"

Molly returned his frown. "I've not heard from you in over nine months. I had no idea whether you were alive or dead!"

Realization dawned on Sherlock. "Ah yes, the case!" He snapped his fingers as he put together what she was referring to. "I've been back for a couple of months now, settling into life in London again. It was a rather difficult case; an assignment from my brother which required a long period of travel out of the country. Naturally, my parents have been clamoring to see me again since my return. So I felt a brief visit would be just the thing to appease them!" He grinned.

Molly's expression went from shock to horror. "And that is why you pronounced that we could no longer correspond? Because of a dangerous case? And then you returned…and did not think to renew contact once more?"

Something flickered in Sherlock's eyes, indicating that he was finally beginning to _get it,_ the fact that he'd made a misstep. He cleared his throat and spoke a bit less confidently than before. "I am here now, as you see. Naturally a trip to the countryside would include contact with you and your family."

"For the sake of borrowing tools?" There was an unmistakable hardness in her voice now. She took what appeared to be a cleansing breath before meeting his gaze again. "Mr. Holmes, I considered us to be friends."

"We are!"

"Are we?" Molly laughed bitterly. "Mr. Holmes, I realize that you do not see things the way many others do, but how can you miss the fact that this is not how to behave as a proper friend?"

He hesitated before responding. "I did what seemed logical at the time."

Molly gestured emphatically toward her own heart. "But did you consider how I feel?!" Her voice broke audibly.

Sherlock stared wide eyed at her, frightened by the emotion of his usually even-tempered friend, and frightened by the weight of what he now realized he'd done.

"You never have, have you?" Molly asked more softly. "I do not believe you have ever really considered and acted in accord with my feelings. And that-" She stopped and pressed her lips together before continuing with some difficulty. "That hurts me deeply, Mr. Holmes. Even to admit it aloud is painful."

"Miss Hooper," he began cautiously. "Perhaps…an apology is needed?" That was what one did to make things better, he had been reminded on many occasions. But the fact that he stated it as a question put the final nail in the coffin.

Molly narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. "I suppose I should thank you, Mr. Holmes. I have been hanging on every mysterious word of that tiny letter for nine months now. I had no explanation or closure. At least I've finally been given that." She lifted her chin a bit, indicating her determination. "But now that I have it, I believe it is time to bid you farewell."

"Farewell?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes. What we have between us is not a true friendship where both parties care about and look after each other. And therefore, it is not a friendship that allows one party to come to the other for favors. So, the answer is no. No, you may not borrow my late father's precious medical tools." She looked a little sad for a moment, but drew another breath and spoke again. "And I will ask you please to leave."

"But, Miss Hooper I-"

"I asked you to leave," she stated a bit more firmly.

Sherlock opened his mouth again, but closed it a second later, thinking better of trying to say anything else at the moment. Finally, he simply gave her a little tip of his hat and turned away, not seeing the way her face crumpled as she shut the door after him.

Sherlock made his way down the walkway, and as he did he came face to face with two more Hooper women. "Afternoon, Mrs. Hooper…Miss Rebecca," he said curtly, nodding to them each in succession.

"Afternoon, Mr. Holmes," they said in unison, both clearly surprised to see him.

He didn't linger, having no desire to engage in small talk with them, and simply bid them a good day. The women walked past him and toward the house while Sherlock looped around the property in order to take the shortcut back toward the main road.

He hung back among the trees beside the property and began going over the things that Molly had said. It was disturbing to him, he fully admitted. He simply assumed she would be glad to see him. But as things stood now, he'd made a complete mess and would have to come up with some plan to mend fences. He'd have to come up with some sort of a grand gesture in order to renew her faith in his friendship. Because he did truly care for her, and he didn't want to lose her friendship that he'd grown so accustomed to all these years. It was just a matter of convincing her.

As he paced and thought seriously, something caught the attention of his ears. It seemed that one of the Hooper's parlor windows had been left open…

"Molly, dearest, we are only thinking in your best interest!"

"He stopped by just to borrow some tools of father's, Mother! And you needn't worry, I told him it wasn't possible."

"He's a perfectly decent gentleman, Molly. You know I feel no ill will toward the man. It is _you_ I am concerned with!"

Sherlock frowned to himself and stopped in his tracks in order to listen more closely as Mrs. Hooper went on.

"Darling, I know how you have always felt about Mr. Holmes, but no good can come of it. I should think that is more than plain by now...after all these years."

Rebecca Hooper's voice chimed in as well. "He is lovely to look at, Molly, but he is obviously a confirmed bachelor. There's no chance there for you!"

"He is...he was my friend," Molly argued weakly. "Just because a man doesn't want to marry me does not mean I should never set eyes on him again!"

"But perhaps that is what it means!" Mrs. Hooper countered. "You are anchoring your heart to a harbor where you are not welcome. And that means you cannot be pulled in any other _more suitable_ direction! And, my dear, you haven't got an eternity!"

"Yes, I know!" Molly said wearily. "I am well aware that I am practically one foot in the grave!"

"Oh, stop it, Molly," her mother said with a sigh. "This is not a joke. This is your life! You've got to let these childhood fantasies go and finally start being a grown woman!"

"There are no fantasies, Mother, believe me! I am well aware of what is real and what is not." Molly's voice was especially glum. "You needn't worry about Mr. Holmes anymore."

"Then why do you remain unmarried?" Mrs. Hooper pleaded. "You completely rejected the interest of Mr. Thomas last summer, though he was a perfectly acceptable man! You've got to make your heart let go of both Mr. Holmes _and_ the dream of becoming a doctor, or you will surely never be able to move ahead with your life!"

"Move ahead to where?" Molly asked in a more exasperated tone. "To be the wife of a man that I barely know? To have babies?"

"There is nothing wrong with being a wife and mother," Mrs. Hooper said firmly.

Molly's voice was just as firm. "And there is nothing wrong with what I want either."

Sherlock held his breath as there was a short period of silence. After a moment, he heard Mrs. Hooper speak again. Her voice was softer, but her words were no doubt just as cutting to poor Molly's spirit.

"There is nothing wrong with what you want, if it is realistically attainable. Molly darling…your dreams are simply not attainable."

There was no answer from Molly after that. What Sherlock heard instead was her soft footsteps, obviously leaving the room and ascending the stairs.

Sherlock turned and leaned his shoulder against one of the trees he stood by. This was rather surprising and, he had to admit, also fascinating. He'd never carefully considered how Molly Hooper's life had gone, or rather, not gone since his exit from the country. And he certainly never considered that she would have continued to feel anything so…well, not that it mattered to him. But it did help to get some wheels turning in that ever busy brain of his.

Sherlock Holmes began to concoct a plan…and it was one he decided to set in motion as quickly as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock waited patiently by the stone wall. He knew Molly would be coming by any minute now, as she never did give up her customary evening walk. It was the same route they'd taken together as children. Sometimes they had been much more likely to be running along said path though, at those times when they'd been up to some sort of mischief and afraid of getting caught. Sherlock couldn't help chuckling to himself at some of those dust covered memories. But soon, he was distracted from his thoughts as he heard a twig snap with approaching footsteps.

Molly rounded the corner and promptly gasped, clutching her chest at the sight of him standing there in the fading sunlight. Once the surprise in her eyes faded, she glared at him. "What are you doing here, Mr. Holmes?"

"My apologies, but I knew I could catch you on this route. I thought it would be a convenient time and place to talk."

Molly looked immediately affronted. "Perhaps it would be better if we made arrangements for a more public time and place. We are rather isolated out here, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock chuckled a little. "Oh, Miss Hooper, do you not recall all the times we were very much alone out here all those years ago? Is anything so very different now?"

"I- I would say so, yes," Molly stammered. "We aren't children anymore."

"Ah yes, you bring up the very subject I wished to discuss. And I think you'll find that in this case it does merit a private discussion. You see, I have just today made specific note of the fact that you are still unmarried."

Molly's mouth hung open for a brief moment before she remembered herself and shut it. "You just noticed that did you?"

"You see, I find it interesting, and also rather disturbing," he said thoughtfully as he began slowly pacing a bit.

Molly frowned. This conversation was becoming more annoying by the second. "Yes, I am regularly reminded of how disturbing that is," she said with a little roll of her eyes.

"What I find disturbing is the fact that your entire life hangs in the balance of some hoped for marriage. I am very well aware of the things that you would like to do with your life…and more specifically, your gifted mind."

Molly froze as he stopped pacing and looked at her, seeing through her as if she were transparent.

"You still wish to study medicine, do you not?" Sherlock asked in that impossibly low voice.

Molly blinked and cleared her throat. "Well I…yes, I do," she admitted. "You remember?"

"Difficult to forget." He let out a short laugh. "You talked of little else when we were growing up. You wanted to become a doctor, a specialist even! Oh, the things we used to imagine doing when we were grown."

Molly looked down at her hands and actually had to swallow a lump in her throat. She wasn't sure what Sherlock was getting at, but to her it seemed like she was simply being reminded of all the things her life was lacking.

"We both imagined many things," Molly said quietly. "Unfortunately for me, it can only be imagined…I am a woman." She smiled wryly.

"Exactly," Sherlock said with a nod. "And because of this, I would like to propose a solution. I couldn't help but feel that I owe you some sort of…" He waved his hand as he searched for the right word. "Gesture of friendship, seeing as you lately believe that I am a rubbish sort of friend. I believe you may be interested in the temporary, but mutually beneficial arrangement that I've come up with." He stepped a bit closer to her and looked at her carefully. "Marriage."

Molly stared up at him, her brow very slightly furrowed as he spoke. "To…whom?"

Sherlock chuckled. "To me obviously!"

Molly continued to gape at him, and it soon turned to another glare. "That is not amusing, Mr. Holmes," she said in a stern, warning tone.

"I'm glad to hear it. It certainly wasn't meant to be a joke," he said, serious as can be.

Molly's anger turned to indigence. "Mr. Holmes, I've no need to endure humiliating proposals out of pity from a childhood friend. I had thought you'd done enough damage for one day! Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, beginning to march right past him. But he surprised her by reaching out and grasping her arm, just to bring her to a stop.

"Miss Hooper, think logically for just a moment, and pray set your ego aside," Sherlock said with some added frustration in his voice now. He hadn't exactly expected to have to do much convincing. But he knew his plan was so perfect that she'd be sure to agree if she simply heard a bit more detail. "Let me please give you all the facts."

Molly still looked angry, but she did stay put after yanking her arm away. "Fine. Explain yourself."

"You and I both remain unmarried and unattached," Sherlock said, stating the obvious. "This is a thorn in the side of not only your family, but mine as well. As you may well know, I am simply not a marrying man. I have other things that I find to be far more important and entertaining than mundane activities like procreation."

Molly blushed a deep red.

"But," Sherlock went on. "It seems that I will continue to hear the moaning of my parents on the subject of my unattached state until the day I die…or until the day I wed." He looked at her pointedly. "And that would be the benefit for me. My family would be under the impression that I have 'settled down' at long last, and would assume that you are somehow keeping me in line in London, or some such rubbish. But for _you,_ Miss Hooper, you will finally be able to do what you so desire…medical school."

Molly's jaw dropped, despite her desire to remain indifferent to his idea, and Sherlock jumped right back in to continue.

"It's certainly not impossible, as you well know. Women are becoming doctors now, far more commonly than some ten or twenty years ago. An unmarried woman though, with no man of significance to back her studies, well that becomes much less likely." He dropped his voice a little lower. "But as my wife, you would not only enter the one and only St. Bart's medical school with ease, but I would ensure that you are treated with the utmost respect and decency…and as an equal in the classroom, just as you deserve."

Molly actually had to reach behind her and feel for the stone wall. She looked away from him as she leaned on it for support, thinking furiously and trying to work out why this was a bad idea and how to convince herself to turn him down…it did not prove an easy task. But then she remembered something.

"I thought you said temporary arrangement," Molly brought up, looking back at him. "How is this temporary?"

"Ah, this is the true genius of the scheme," he said with a smile before he pressed his fingers to his lips as he paced a bit more. "It's not as well-known as it should be that marriages can be dissolved with surprising ease. By the time you are nearing the end of your education and your position is not in jeopardy, we can quietly annul the marriage and go our separate ways, even managing to avoid scandal. You become a doctor and enjoy your career, and I continue on my own as I focus on my work…just as we were both meant to be." He smiled at the end of his incredibly simplistic solution.

"A-and there would have to be grounds for an annulment. What exactly would those be?"

Sherlock shrugged and answered casually. "Lack of consummation."

A fresh blush erupted on Molly's cheeks. "I see," she answered softly, looking away and thinking some more.

After a moment, Sherlock spoke up. "Unless such an arrangement troubles you. As you can see, this would be a marriage of convenience only, with no possibility of children. And this would even make it slightly less likely for you to remarry later, with such a ruined marriage under your belt. However, I can assure that the whole of the scandal could lie with me, and if anything, you would come out as the wronged party in every sense. But I suppose that in reality I am simply offering you the means to an end. I am offering you the career you've always wanted…but nothing more."

Molly stared up at him, looking into his icy eyes and studying his features that were familiar but also still such a mystery. She wondered if she could live with it. Could she marry a man she loves, knowing that he not only doesn't feel the same, but that the marriage itself would be over shortly? Not to mention the fact that he had the tendency to drive her mad at times! She wondered if one or both of them would live to regret it. But then again, she knew that if she said no and stayed here…absolutely nothing would change for her. At least this way she had the chance of the profession she'd always dreamed of, even if a husband and family would always be unattainable. When she considered all the factors, really, how could she say no?

Finally, Molly nodded and gave him a tight smile. "All right, yes…I accept."

"Excellent!" Sherlock responded, clapping his palms together. "Now, perhaps we should make our way back to your cottage so that we can announce the news to your mother."

"Oh, wait!" Molly exclaimed, realizing that she'd overlooked this mountain-like obstacle. "H-how will I ever get my mother to agree to such a thing? She would never want me to enter into a union under circumstances such as this!"

Sherlock frowned at her and cocked his head to the side. "Miss Hooper, honestly…did you imagine that we would share all these details with your family? No. Both your family and mine will be none the wiser."

Molly pursed her lips as she considered this. "But how would that work? My mother and sister would naturally come to stay with us in London for a time, in order to get me settled into married life. They would be living right there with us…and in rather close quarters, if I understand London living accurately. However would we be able to keep them in the dark?"

Sherlock chuckled low and slow as he took a step closer to Molly. He reached down and took gentle hold of her hand in his, examining it almost adoringly before meeting her eyes again and making her face heat up again. "I have many skills, Miss Hooper," he whispered. "And among them is my ability to play a part very convincingly. Allow me to assure you that if needed, I would be able to convince anyone that I am nothing short of an adoring husband who is very much in love with his wife." While keeping eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a gently kiss to it.

Molly realized that her jaw had gone slack again and promptly picked it up from the ground. She cleared her throat as they continued staring at each other.

"Well then," she whispered. "Let us go and tell my mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just fyi, this is an actual thing that was done at the time. A newly married woman's female relatives would come a stay with her for a while and get her settled. So it is historically accurate...but it also certainly lends itself to the plot of the story since this is a remix of Winds, which features a visit of Molly's mother and sister. Easy parallels! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock strolled along to where he could see Mycroft sitting. He took a seat on the park bench as his brother produced a small stack of papers.

"This was no small trouble, brother mine." Mycroft made sure to convey any bit of inconvenience in his tone of voice.

"You seem to have accomplished the task in record time. I hardly see the problem," Sherlock countered casually as he thumbed through the papers.

There was a moment of silence as the older Holmes observed the younger. Finally, Mycroft spoke up again. "And where is the lovely Mrs. Holmes this afternoon? At the Savoy?"

"Obviously," Sherlock answered wearily. "You know that's where we're spending our honeymoon."

"And how, may I ask, have your first few days as a married man been? Though, you may feel free to spare me the gory details." Mycroft said with a little teasing glint in his eye.

Sherlock frowned at Mycroft. "And you may spare me the pointless questions. I am simply performing a favor for an old friend, as you well know."

Mycroft clasped his hands as he looked off thoughtfully. "Yes, you always were rather…chummy with Miss Molly Hooper, weren't you? I suppose I can't say I was completely surprised when you informed me of your _friendly favor._ Though, you cannot deny that the arrangement is not completely without benefit to you."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Yes…the benefit of appeasing Mummy. Naturally that's what you were referring to," he said pointedly.

"Oh naturally!" Mycroft responded with a little smile. "Though, I should ask, are you absolutely certain about the annulment papers?"

Sherlock thumbed through and picked those items out to look them over as he answered. "What would I be uncertain about?"

Mycroft shrugged. "Oh, I simply wondered if two years' time could bring about more changes than you anticipate. I can't help but wonder if the papers will still be valid," he said, dropping his voice a little.

Sherlock sighed and shoved the pack of papers inside his jacket. "Honestly, Mycroft, do you know me at all? In two years' time these annulment documents will be just as valid as they are today. You've certainly no need to be concerned. Molly is just a friend…practically like a sibling to me!" He laughed and waved his hand dismissively as he stood.

"Mm, exactly as I assumed," Mycroft replied flatly, clearly not convinced. "Well, don't let me keep you. Your bride awaits!"

"Yes, it'll be time for an afternoon walk I suppose," Sherlock said as he straightened his hat. "Tedious."

Mycroft stood as well and picked up his case. "You must endure it as best you can. Can't hide away all the time. The city must observe the happily wedded Sherlock Holmes parading his new wife for all to see!" He gestured grandly.

"Oh yes, everything must be a ridiculous spectacle," Sherlock complained. "I'll be glad to return to Baker Street next week."

"Ah yes, and then you'll only need to make a spectacle in front of your house guests. That should be _far_ less taxing!" Mycroft said with an evil little chuckle.

"But at least I will be home and comfortable, and not restricted to some silly notion of a honeymoon. The entire thing is nothing but a nuisance, and all I can do is to remind myself of the reason for all of it. Good day, Mycroft." With that, Sherlock briskly marched off.

Mycroft shook his head and muttered to himself as he walked his own way. "I wager less than a year."

* * *

Molly heard the lock being turned and it drew her attention from the newspaper she'd been perusing. Sherlock entered the room a moment later and removed his hat as he strolled over to her with some papers in hand.

"I was wondering when you'd be back," Molly said, looking up from her chair with a smile.

"And in my extended outing, I have secured your wedding gift…though I cannot pretend it's a surprise." He picked out and handed her the specific papers he was referring to with a proud smirk, and then stuck the remaining ones in his jacket pocket.

Molly stood and her eyes already began glittering with excitement as she took the papers from him and began to read. After a second, she let out a little gasp and grinned up at him. "Mr. Holmes, this…this is…" She couldn't even string together the words.

"You have been successfully enrolled in Bart's Medical School, set to officially begin in autumn," Sherlock finished for her. "As promised."

Molly continued grinning and she shook her head as she stared at the official documents in her hands that might as well have been made of gold. "I can hardly believe it," she breathed out.

Sherlock took a seat in the chair opposite the one she had been seated in. "Did you doubt I would be able to make it happen?"

Molly flopped down as well, finally dragging her gaze from the documents and over to Sherlock. "No, not exactly. I suppose it's just the reality of it all…it is a bit overwhelming. It's my dream of course, and what I always wanted. But now I can only hope that since it's finally mine, I'll be able to make a success of it!" she said while placing her hand on her chest and feeling how furiously her heart was beating.

"Ah, that'll be no trouble at all," Sherlock stated nonchalantly. "It's what you were born to do, obviously."

Molly looked closer at one of the papers. "I cannot believe that your brother was honestly able to excuse the need for me having previously attended university!"

"Yes," Sherlock said with a sigh. "As much as it pains me to admit at times, the word of Mycroft Holmes is a powerful thing in the city of London. It does have its advantages!"

"I can certainly see that!" She licked her lips and paused. "And thanks to you as well. Nothing would have ever happened without your asking him," Molly said softly with another smile. Their eyes stayed connected for just a moment, and then Sherlock cleared his throat and stood from the chair once again and took a few steps away.

"I believe we should be seen out and about this afternoon. Perhaps you should fetch your hat." He spun to face her again as she stood. "Speaking of your attire…I do hope you made some progress in that department this morning."

"Oh yes!" Molly stood again as well and she glanced down at her current outfit. "I still felt a bit silly having so many new dresses made, and at such a cost, seeing as I have a few that are still in perfectly wearable condition."

Sherlock looked her over with a judgmental eye. "Yeees…I am well aware of the outfits you own. But as I said, this is about playing a part. And the wife of Sherlock Holmes, who is living in London and is enrolled in a prestigious medical school, cannot be seen in a dress that is simply in _wearable condition._ We shall need to be sure you are appropriately fashionable. Too flashy, and that would cause a scandal. But too dowdy and everyone would question what in heaven's name I was thinking."

Molly nodded dutifully. "Yes, I understand. And the shop I visited today was so very helpful. I am not one with much of an eye for fashion," she said with a slight blush. "But the ladies there knew just what to suggest and I was surprised to find myself actually having a nice time."

"Excellent," Sherlock said while looking at his pocket watch. "Now, we'd better get downstairs before it gets too late in the day."

"Of course. I'll just fetch my hat." Molly hurried off through the door to the adjoining bedroom. She grabbed a hat, and then stopped in the washroom and tucked in a couple of loose strands of hair and even pinched her cheeks a few times. She stared into the glass for a moment and thought about how funny it was that she didn't look any different. Here she was, staying at the Savoy in London with Sherlock Holmes who was now her husband…and yet she looked and felt the same. The change was so extreme that it somehow seemed as if she should look like a different person. She couldn't help but wonder if she would indeed look noticeably different if she were a new bride in _every_ sense.

She shook her head and then set her newly purchased hat upon it, carefully pinning it in place. No sense dwelling on what would never be. Best to live in the moment and enjoy what she had! Like this luxurious suite and the acceptance letter from Bart's with her name on it. And, if she were honest, the chance to even act like Sherlock's wife from time to time.

Molly came back out into the sitting room as Sherlock was putting his hat on as well. He bent his arm, extending it to her, and she looped her hand around it as they made their way to the door.

"Oh and back to the subject of playing a part," Sherlock said as they closed the door to their room behind them. "I believe there are one or two things that merit discussing while on our walk…"

* * *

"Are we headed anywhere in particular?" Molly asked as she settled into the carriage that Sherlock had got.

"We've already been here three days. I think it high time you have a look at Trafalgar Square. We'll walk by way of St James park, which is where the carriage will take us." Sherlock was observing the street traffic as they began to move.

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Molly exclaimed genuinely, also looking out the window and enjoying the sights and sounds as they made their way along the street.

"We'll need to do a bit of sightseeing," Sherlock went on. "We can't stay shut away in our hotel room for the entire honeymoon. We need to be seen out and together."

"Mm, of course," Molly agreed.

"This will also be a good time to practice."

She looked back at him. "Practice what?"

"We are man and wife now…we need to _act and sound_ like man and wife."

Molly frowned. "Do we not seem like a married couple now?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Marriages are so often more like business arrangements, so of course the look of a married couple can vary greatly. But we are attempting to give the impression of an affectionate and happy marriage; one not likely to be questioned, particularly in closer quarters with your family."

"Well of course…I'm sure we can do that," Molly said confidently.

Sherlock chuckled to himself as he tugged at the leather gloves on his hands.

Molly sighed in exasperation. "What exactly is so amusing?"

"Oh, I just find your confidence to be a bit high. After all, you've never had reason to deceive anyone before, especially your own family. And if I recall correctly from our childhood days, you tend to blush enough to give us away. Have you ever played such an elaborate part? I think not."

Molly let out a little huff and crossed her arms over her middle, doing her best to stamp down the same blush he mentioned. "And what would you suggest, Mr. Holmes? You clearly feel that I need some sort of lessons."

Sherlock smirked at her as he leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee. "Think about the familiarity that comes with the relationship between a happily married man and woman. Behind closed doors, _nothing_ is held back."

Molly swallowed thickly and wondered why it was suddenly so stuffy in this carriage.

"Naturally, interactions between the two would be restricted in the public eye," Sherlock continued, and then spoke more intensely. "But that closeness, that happiness, that intimacy that nobody would ever be able to see with their own eyes…would still be apparent enough to shine through even if we were not touching at all. Subtle things like tone of voice and the look in our eyes should make our feelings just as loud and clear as a more overt display of affection."

Molly raised her brows as he finished his poetic description. And she couldn't help but crack a smile. "I see. And you believe that I am the one in need of coaching in this area?"

"Obviously," he answered instantly. "You've never experienced such a relationship yourself, so naturally your skills at imitating one would be limited."

Molly cocked her head and made a thoughtful expression. "Yes, but I believe you are equally inexperienced. How do you consider yourself to be the expert?"

Sherlock smiled, looking pleased with himself. "That, Miss Hooper, is because _I observe._ "

Molly pursed her lips and nodded, mulling this over in her head as she turned to look out the carriage window again. He was right. He did spend lots of time observing the patterns and interactions of people. But he lacked something that couldn't be duplicated by observation and study, no matter how extensive.

She covertly glanced back over at him, her gaze lingering pleasantly since he was distracted and looking outside the carriage. Her eyes passed over his perfectly defined profile and facial features, and then down over his broad shoulders and pristinely dressed long and lean body. Her lips twisted in a secret little smile. Oh yes, this would prove to be a minuscule challenge for her; convincing the world that she was happy with her husband.

Because Molly did not have to pretend to be in love.

* * *

Sherlock and Molly strolled along, the late spring even gracing them with a bit of sunshine. Molly took deep breaths of the fresh air and couldn't help but enjoy the feel of walking casually, arm in arm with Sherlock.

"Darling," Sherlock said, breaking through the silence.

Molly turned immediately to face him. "Pardon?"

"Darling…that's how we should address each other in the privacy of our home when your family is in earshot."

"Oh, I see."

Another couple passed by them and some cordial "how-do-you-do's" were exchanged. Once they were gone, Sherlock spoke again.

"Of course, we can vary the terms of endearment, if you'd like. Whatever you're comfortable with, as long as it comes across as natural."

Molly smiled to herself. In the moment, she had a difficult time imagining any difficulty with naturally playing the role of his happy wife. Although…she did know Sherlock. She'd known him for years, and in reality she knew that living with him day in and day out might not be such a constant picnic. This could certainly be challenging, no matter how strongly she felt about him. The man was undoubtedly odd, and had quirks and personality traits that could drive many to drink! But what woman wasn't at odds with her husband at times? If they did have difficulty getting along, it wouldn't hurt to add to the complete picture of marital bliss…which in reality, wasn't always blissful.

"I believe your mother is especially in need of convincing," Sherlock said, leaning down to speak the words a bit softer as they passed by a few more people.

"Oh," Molly answered softly. "Well, I don't believe she thinks we are deceiving everyone. But I suppose I know what you mean. She's simply concerned for me." Not that Molly wanted to really admit to why her mother was concerned for her.

"Precisely. And this upcoming visit of theirs will be what's needed to put her mind at ease. If all goes according to plan, your mother will leave feeling assured that you've entered into a perfectly secure and very loving marriage. We can't have her concern mounting and turning to actual fear for you. That will only make things more difficult. Word of an unhappy marriage spreads like wildfire," Sherlock said with a sigh.

"She'll likely die of shock when she truly hears of the marriage ending," Molly said, her voice turning glum. She did still hate the idea of causing her family any pain.

"Best not to dwell on that for now," Sherlock said, completely relaxed. "When the time comes, all will be done as quickly, seamlessly, and painlessly as possible. Now…on the matter of our living arrangements at Baker Street…"

As Sherlock spoke, they had finally arrived at Trafalgar Square, and Molly was instantly wide eyed with the scenery and bustle of activity. She was the one to pull him in the direction of one of the great fountains, which he happily obliged. When they reached it, Molly took a seat on the stone edge and dipped her fingers into the cool water.

She smiled at Sherlock. "This place is just beautiful."

Sherlock looked around them thoughtfully. "It is a useful place. Always plenty of activity and people."

"It's just lovely," Molly said wistfully, looking into the water again.

Sherlock found himself a bit distracted at the sight of Molly taking delight in a small thing such as a fountain. In a city full of diversions, it was interesting what took her interest.

He was snapped out of his musings by her voice, "Oh, forgive me, what were you saying before?"

"Ah yes, at Baker Street," Sherlock said, also remembering his previous train of thought. "I do hope you're aware of what the living arrangements will be like."

Molly shrugged and smiled, still running her fingertips along the water. "I'm not picky. I won't mind a small space."

"Yeees," Sherlock agreed cautiously. "But that was only partly what I was referring to. When your mother and sister arrive next week, they will occupy the only spare room in the flat. That would of course mean that we will be sharing a bedroom." He noticed her cheeks flush just a bit as she fully understood what he meant.

"Ah…I see," Molly answered, but then gave him a small smile, though he wondered if it wasn't simply an attempt to seem unconcerned. "Well, of course we would. That will be no problem at all!"

"Good." She wasn't one hundred percent comfortable with the arrangement, that much was obvious. There was no getting around it though. There were no more available bedrooms, and there was nowhere else that one of them could sleep within the same room. The fact was that they would simply have to share a bed, at least for the brief periods that Sherlock would be sleeping at the same time as Molly. It certainly wouldn't bother him! But he admitted the possibility of Molly's discomfort with such an arrangement.

"Of course, I rarely sleep," he added quickly.

"Yes, I remember," she said with a little laugh. "At least, I remember that's how you were as a boy."

"And sleep is as boring now as it was when I was a boy!" Sherlock said with a half-smile.

There was a brief silence before Molly finally spoke again. "But truly, I don't mind. We can certainly share a bed for a short time with little or no discomfort."

They both got up then, continuing to stroll around the square and admire the scenery. Molly stopped to gaze up in wonder at one of the huge lions. "He looks like he needs a nice scratch behind the ears," she said with a giggle. "I've always wanted a cat…though this one might be a bit much to care for."

"I refuse to share a bed with him," Sherlock said, unable to stop his lips from lifting in a smile.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

They turned at the sound of the jolly voice. There stood Mike Stamford, smiling at the two of them.

"Stamford, good day to you," Sherlock said kindly, shaking the man's hand.

"I had heard you'd been away, but I'm pleased to see you've come back to London." Stamford was very obviously looking back and forth between Sherlock and the sweet woman at his side.

Sherlock noted this and decided it was time to dive right in. "Stamford, may I introduce…my wife, Molly." He had to admit that he rather enjoyed the shock and awe that washed over the man's face.

"W-well, my goodness!" Mike exclaimed, beginning to grin. "What a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holmes! I had no idea! Congratulations to you both!"

"Thank you very much," Molly said with a little blush.

"Molly, this is Dr. Michael Stamford," Sherlock said to his wife. "You'd certainly be meeting him soon anyway, seeing as he teaches at Bart's hospital." He looked back at Stamford. "You see, my wife has recently been accepted to medical school."

The doctor beamed at Molly. "How wonderful! You must be terribly excited."

"I am, yes. A bit nervous though, I must admit!"

"Oh, I feel sure you'll do just fine," Mike said kindly. "It's truly a brave endeavor, though I couldn't expect it would be any more than marrying Holmes, eh? You are a brave woman indeed!"

Stamford chuckled and Molly smiled good naturedly while Sherlock did his best not to scowl at the implication.

"I'll look forward to seeing you very soon then," Stamford went on. "There's to be some lectures and events open to the new students coming on in autumn."

"Truly?!" Molly asked, excited. "Oh how exciting! I can hardly wait!" She hooked her arm into Sherlock's and gave it an affectionate squeeze, and he looked down at her to give her a genuinely warm smile in return.

"Well, I'll let you two get back to your walk." Stamford gave them a little tip of his hat. "My congratulations again, and what a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holmes. Good day!" He waved cheerfully as he continued on.

Molly stared after the man that she's just met. When Sherlock had handed her the papers of admission this morning, she'd felt as if in a dream. But now...oh, now it was all too real! Spoken aloud, making plans for lectures, meeting potential colleagues. Butterflies of nervous excitement exploded in her stomach.

"Well done," Sherlock said after Doctor Stamford was out of earshot, giving Molly's arm a little pat. "Little gestures such as that are just the sort of thing to make this all look natural."

"Hm?" Molly frowned for a moment and then realized he meant the way she'd squeezed his arm. "Oh um, yes of course…" She laughed a little nervously, knowing that she'd done that without a thought to playing a part.

"Well, what do you say? Shall we take a walk around the other fountain and then head back through the park?"

Molly peered in that direction. "Oh and it looks like there's an artist painting over there. I'd love to see what he's working on!"

Sherlock's brow lifted as he spoke. "If we're especially fortunate, perhaps it will turn out that the artist has recently been receiving death threats."

"Mr. Holmes!" Molly exclaimed with a laugh.

Sherlock sighed and spoke with clenched teeth. "What I wouldn't give for a 


	4. Chapter 4

"We didn't have to retire right away. You could have stayed if you wanted," Molly offered as they neared their suite after dinner. "Do you play cards?"

"Idiotic game," Sherlock stated as he unlocked the door and let them both in. "I prefer something a bit different…I occasionally box."

Molly laughed as he shut and locked the door. "Ah yes, I remember. And what a paradox! I would imagine you enjoying an activity that uses your brain…not your fists."

"Ah, but that is exactly what I use when boxing…my mind is the key. It is essentially a physical game of chess. I have to think quicker and further ahead than my opponent. And because of my being able to do that _terribly well,_ I rarely lose." He grinned haughtily.

"What a shame that the Savoy doesn't include a boxing room alongside their cards room!" Molly said with another laugh.

Silence descended upon them after that and she noted that Sherlock was loosening his collar. She knew he wasn't likely ready to go to sleep, but that relaxed action of his always alerted her to the moment when she should leave him and retire to the bedroom on her own. She didn't imagine that he wanted to stay up late chatting with her…they weren't children anymore.

"I'll say goodnight," Molly said softly.

Sherlock turned and nodded. "Yes, goodnight," he returned quickly with a tight smile.

He turned away again instantly and Molly walked off, her new gown rustling as she walked and reminding her that there was still a part of her that didn't fit in here, in this place. And maybe not even with him.

Molly went into the bedroom and shut the door, but as soon as she did, her heart sank. She groaned softly to herself as she looked in the full length mirror and anticipated the task of undressing once again. Molly had never grown up being used to an especially high standard of living, but there was one thing she had never before done without…assistance from another woman. The past week had been the first time in her adult life that she'd been forced to take on the task of dressing and undressing without any help from another person. Which proved to be especially challenging when dealing with all the layers that proper London attire dictated.

Two days ago she had emerged from the bedroom completely red in the face and feeling like she was on fire by the time she was finally ready to leave the hotel. She could tell that Sherlock was a bit annoyed from having to wait so long, but she was also too embarrassed to admit why. She'd enjoyed their outing to the Tower of London, but she was also a bit uncomfortable the whole time, because there were certain things that just weren't sitting as well as they should. It was a delicate balance with fashionable outfits like these and she was having a harder time with that balance than she liked to admit.

True, the hotel was equipped with every possible service that she could need. And she'd only need to request a lady's maid to come help her if she wanted. But not only was she ashamed to need such a thing from a stranger, but she had already heard Sherlock shoot down any possible services in their room. He'd been offered an occasional man servant at check in and had indignantly refused any unnecessary fussing, insisting that they not be disturbed. It could easily be played off as a desire for a newly married couple to enjoy intimate solitude, but she knew Sherlock well enough to understand that he simply didn't want anyone in his personal space.

Molly sighed as she removed the delicate bodice and skirt of her evening wear, being careful not to trip or ruin anything as she did. After hanging the garment neatly, she let down some of her hair. The pins were beginning to cause an ache in her head and letting half of her hair down eased some of the pressure. Next, she untied and removed the top petticoat. After setting that aside as well, she grimaced at herself in the mirror. The hardest part was ahead of her and her arms were still aching from dealing with it for almost a week. She would once again need to undo her own corset.

Molly untied and opened her corset cover and reached around to the laces. She winced as soon as she did. The angle was infuriatingly uncomfortable! Especially after so many days of repeating the action. And as she stood there trying to reach and feel her way, she realized that there was more than one reason she was agonizing over this.

It was also because she knew what the logical solution was.

Molly glanced at the door which could open the way to possible relief. She clenched her teeth, wondering if she had the courage to just…ask for help. Feeling a fresh wave of nervousness wash over her, she glanced at her bed and considered the desperate plan to simply lie down and go to sleep! She could save herself the trouble of taking it off tonight at all! But then she quickly cast that ridiculous idea aside. She'd only be left to deal with it again the next day. She couldn't put it off forever!

One more attempt at reaching the laces of her corset and she huffed in both annoyance and determination. She needed to grow up and do what needed to be done. Molly marched over to the door and eased it open…

Sherlock looked up from the paper when he saw Molly's head peeking through the opening in the door. He instantly saw that something seemed to be amiss.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"Mr. Holmes, I um…I was wondering if you'd be willing to assist me with something."

Sherlock folded the paper and stood, walking over slowly with narrowed eyes. "Assist with…"

The words poured out before Molly could decide how to put it delicately. "Would you help me undress?"

Sherlock's brow shot up comically and Molly's face turned an almost painful shade of red.

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock questioned playfully, despite the fact that he'd instantly deduced what she was requesting.

Molly sighed and opened the door a bit more. "Look, I've thought about it and I just can't continue on like this every morning and every night. I'm wasting a colossal amount of time and I'm absolutely _murdering_ my arms! I hate to admit it, but…I simply need some help." She looked like a nervous child, standing there in her underthings. "It's mostly just with the corset," she added softly.

Sherlock smirked as she stepped aside and he came into the bedroom. "I'm sure it'll be no trouble. I solve murders! What's a bit of unlacing?"

"Thank you," Molly said with a genuine smile of gratitude as she turned her back to him. "I was stupid to struggle with it for days." She laughed in embarrassment, then reached around and touched the tied laces in the middle of the garment. "Just untie this and then slowly work to loosen the laces from the middle up, and from the middle down, alternating a bit so it loosens evenly."

"Perfectly simply," Sherlock said confidently as he untied the bow.

"Simple when you can see what you're doing and your arms aren't going numb," Molly said with a laugh.

Sherlock grew silent for a moment, and then Molly's breath hitched as reality hit her when his fingers began looping into the laces and tugging a bit to create more slack. She jumped slightly when she also felt a painful tug on her hair.

"Forgive me," Sherlock muttered and swept her hair out of the way and over the front of her shoulder.

This made Molly clamp her lips and eyes shut for a moment as she mumbled something like, "no problem."

Hopefully, it would be over with quickly.

The silence continued as Sherlock focused on the task of slowly loosening laces. But suddenly, his naturally observant eyes couldn't help but be momentarily distracted from the simply task at hand. He looked at the shiny white satin lacing between his fingers, the beautifully smooth cream colored fabric that made up the bodice of the corset, and the perfect decorative stitching around the edges. His eyes drifted to the corset cover that lay on the bed. It was free of any wearing or discoloration. Even her shift, which was gradually becoming more visible beneath the corset, was white as snow and in nothing less than pristine condition.

"Brand new," Sherlock murmured aloud.

"Pardon?" Molly asked softly over her shoulder.

He had actually intended to make a simple mental note, but sometimes these things just came out. So he cleared his throat and clarified. "Your underthings…they're new."

"Oh," Molly breathed out. "Yes, well…my mother insisted. She thought it only right that I should have new ones. And of course I could hardly argue that it wasn't necessary. I felt a bit badly once I'd seen how lovely they were. I hate to think of the expense…all for nothing really."

Something unexpectedly ached in Sherlock's chest. He hated sentimental and romantic traditions, so the whole idea that a woman should be primped and presented like some fancy gift to the man she was marrying was in general completely distasteful. But somehow, in this moment, the image of Molly standing there before him in such finery…all for nothing…was almost too painful to look at. He was doing her such a service in this whole marriage arrangement, that's how he kept thinking of it. He was offering her something that was almost certainly unattainable for her without his assistance. But despite all that, as he stared at the smooth skin only partially covered in fine fabric, as if specially designed to be unwrapped and appreciated, he could only think one thing.

_She deserves more than I'm giving her._

Sherlock's fingers sped up a bit, trying to focus and complete what he was there to accomplish. In his haste, he tangled the main laces for a moment and sighed loudly.

"Ridiculous contraption," he huffed in frustration.

Molly glanced over her shoulder, but didn't say anything as he continued to tug. Something had changed from a moment ago. The speed of his fingers, and he wondered if she could detect the change in his breathing pattern.

"You'll be fascinated when you finally get to have a good look at a woman's internal organs after a lifetime of wearing this _thing,"_ Sherlock continued with disdain.

"Yes, well my older corset is a bit less restrictive. I like to actually be able to move about," she said with a little laugh. Then she let out a lengthy sigh as Sherlock more fully separated the two sides of the corset, now completely releasing any pressure. "Even this one isn't too bad. I don't lace mine as tight as some ladies do." She finally turned and Sherlock took a step back now that his work was done.

"Yes, well I imagine my lesson on lacing will be first thing tomorrow morning," he said in a business like tone.

"If you don't mind, that is," Molly said meekly. "Thank you."

"Won't be a problem. Just tell me when you're ready," Sherlock said quickly before turning to leave. "Goodnight," he added, and swept through the door, shutting it as he went.

"Goodnight," Molly called after him, even though the door was already shut.

Sherlock marched back into the sitting room and flopped down in one of the chairs. He drummed his fingers on the arms and bounced his leg for a moment. Too long without a case…so he began thumbing through the files in his mind to pick out an interesting one that he could mentally replay. It was proving a bit difficult to concentrate for a while though. That is, until his fingers began moving slightly back and forth on the arm of the chair and he felt his mind relax a bit. He wondered what was so soothing, so he opened his eyes and looked down.

His fingers had been moving back and forth against the piping on edge of the arm. The _smooth satin_ piping.

Sherlock frowned and instantly jumped up. Probably better to mentally go over a case while pacing instead of sitting…

* * *

Molly set the last of her clothes in the suitcase and then laid out the simple unfit she'd be putting on today, on their last morning here at the Savoy. She had another strange moment of realization when she thought about the fact that her honeymoon was over…just like that. And of course it was far from how she always imagined the end of her honeymoon would feel like.

She grabbed her corset from the bed and attached the front hooks before opening the door a bit to call for Sherlock. When she did, she saw that he was just lifting his suspenders over his shoulders. Molly hesitated a moment, but then knocked softly which prompted him to turn around.

"Ready?" he asked when seeing her.

"Mm, whenever you are."

Sherlock came in and joined Molly in front of the mirror. The routine had begun to feel normal over the past few mornings. Molly would stand at the mirror with a mouthful of hair pins, and would work to pin up her hair as Sherlock stood behind her and evenly tightened the laces of her corset. They'd drastically reduced the amount of time it took for her to get ready during the second half of their stay. And of course Sherlock had come to pride himself at the skillful job he did at lacing Molly up. Not too loose, not too tight, nothing out of place. And he was already much faster now than the first time he tried it.

"Your mother and sister will arrive tomorrow afternoon?" Sherlock asked as he began tying the middle laces in a nice knot.

"Mm," Molly answered, still with a pin in her mouth. She took it out and secured the last bit of hair. "They'll likely be rather worn out from the ride by then."

"Within the next week or two you'll be expected to begin making social calls on the wives of my friends." At this point Sherlock chuckled. "Thankfully for you, that will prove to be a rather short list! Most likely, Mary Watson will be first on that list."

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "John Watson's wife! I'll be so pleased to meet her. And Dr. Watson as well, of course."

"The Watsons are currently out of town, visiting Harriet Watson, John's sister. They should be back any day now, but it does give me a bit of time, which is convenient because I'll need to formulate a plan about the Watsons," Sherlock said seriously.

"What do you mean?" Molly had stepped into her skirt and buttoned it already, and now she pulled her bodice on and Sherlock automatically helped button the back which would prove more difficult to reach as he answered her.

"It may be worth sharing the nature of our arrangement with them because they may prove more difficult to deceive. Watson because he knows me well enough to question a sudden decision like this, and Mrs. Watson because…" He paused and smirked as Molly turned to face him again. "Well unfortunately, Mrs. Watson knows when I'm fibbing."

Molly couldn't help but giggle. She anticipated getting along with this Mary Watson just swimmingly!

Less than an hour later, their bags were being brought downstairs and Sherlock and Molly rode the lift down to the ground floor. Molly had her hand around Sherlock's bent arm and she wasn't really paying attention when suddenly she felt Sherlock brush a bit of hair from the side of her face. She turned to look up at him and was met with a soft smile.

"How lovely you look this morning, darling," Sherlock whispered.

Molly blushed and had to glance down for a moment to control her silly smile. As she did, Sherlock grasped her gloved hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss. She looked up at him again, knowing that he was putting on a show, but unable to truly disregard the pull from his eyes to hers.

A second later, Sherlock glanced over at the lift operator and smiled slyly. "Forgive me, I can't help myself. I'm still rather in awe that this woman is my wife!"

The lift operator grinned back at him, obviously appreciative of the affectionate display. "Not a problem, Mr. Holmes. And may I say, congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," they said politely in unison.

"I do hope you enjoyed your stay," the man added as the lift slowed at the bottom floor.

"Oh yes, very much so," Sherlock replied pleasantly. "We'll look forward to returning. Perhaps for our first anniversary?" He smiled at Molly.

"I can hardly wait," Molly said, and she meant it. She was rather sorry to leave. And the thought of returning in a year was a little thrilling…though she realized Sherlock was likely just saying it for the act.

"Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes," the lift operator said with a little bow as they exited.

Sherlock leaned down as they walked away. "Remind me to contact the manager once we're settled back at Baker Street. That lift operator is stealing from the hotel."

Molly had to cover her mouth to conceal the laugh, now realizing that her husband had been brilliantly multi-tasking during the lift ride.

* * *

When their carriage came to a stop at 221 Baker Street and Molly got out, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of this building that was to be her home for at least the next couple of years. To her, it already looked like home. Right at that moment, she was surprised to see a couple of rough looking young men step out from the nearest alley and begin making their way toward her and Sherlock. She automatically took a step closer to Sherlock, but was equally surprised when he noticed them and greeted them warmly.

"Ah, Wiggins!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Glad to see you got my message."

"Tha' I did," the young man named Wiggins said with a nod.

Sherlock placed his hand on Molly's back and spoke to the men. "This is my wife, Molly Holmes, and you'll do all you can to ensure that she is kept out of harm's way on the London streets." He looked down at Molly. "Molly darling, this is Bill Wiggins. He and many of his friends are some of my occasional employees. I believe I've mentioned them in some of my letters. Today, they're kind enough to assist in moving all of our things upstairs!"

"Oh, how lovely," Molly said with a smile at Wiggins and his friend. "And it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Missus," Wiggins said with a smile and a tip of his rather dirty hat.

After Sherlock unlocked the door, the two men began lifting cases and bringing them up the stairs inside. He came back over to Molly and walked her inside while speaking to her in a hushed voice.

"They're likely better allies than the entirety of Scotland Yard. I have eyes and ears all over London and they're incredibly loyal to me." He looked down at her with what seemed to be a very genuinely caring expression. "You can be sure they'll be loyal to you as well."

Molly nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you," she said softly.

They stepped aside as the two men came barreling down the stairs again to grab more bags. Then Sherlock and Molly climbed the staircase themselves.

Molly glanced down at the door near the landing as they went up. "Is Mrs. Hudson home?"

"Not at the moment. It's cards with her friends on Saturday afternoon. You'll meet her soon enough."

Sherlock walked into the open door of his flat and Molly followed, looking around and taking in the slightly dark and dreary sight. Despite that, she still felt a sense of home. It was a place she'd been reading about on and off for years in Sherlock's letters, so there was a familiarity to it all.

She was being completely genuine when she took her hat off and smiled at Sherlock. "I love It here."

She might have been imagining it, but it seemed like there was something akin to pride in Sherlock's eyes when he heard those words.

"I imagine your mother and sister won't feel the same, but thankfully their stay will be relatively brief compared to yours..." The two men had just walked in with more bags and Sherlock hastily added. "Which is forever of course."

Molly concealed her amused smile by taking a walk down the hallway. She peeked into the washroom on her way, and then stepped into Sherlock's bedroom…their bedroom. It was indeed rather small. He had been right that there was no possibility of anything but sleeping in the same bed. The bed wasn't tiny though, and it seemed that they'd manage to be perfectly comfortable during the moments when they were sleeping at the same time. Sherlock walked in and seemed to read her thoughts.

"You may feel free to consider this your flat, your room, and your bed. You needn't ask for permission or check with me before doing anything. Not only is it unnecessary, seeing as I've already become accustomed to sharing this flat with another person, but it also wouldn't help with the overall ruse." He strolled around the room and swiped a finger across his dresser as he went. "Agh, Mrs. Hudson's been dusting again!"

Sherlock marched out of the room again and Molly could hear him speaking to Wiggins. A moment later, the door shut and there was silence. Eventually, she emerged from the bedroom to see what was going on. She found Sherlock sitting in his leather chair by the fire, his eyes closed and hands steepled in front of his lips. Molly enjoyed the quiet scene for a moment, and then headed into the kitchen and set about making some tea.

She smiled contentedly to herself as she did…because this was her life now.


	5. Chapter 5

John Watson knocked only briefly before walking into 221B and calling out a small 'hello.' He still considered it rather like a second home, having only moved out less than a year before. When he stepped in, he was greeted by the sight of Sherlock in his leather chair, the morning edition of the Times hiding his face. It remained in place even as the detective spoke..

"Ah, Watson, back from your sister's…who is apparently back to the drink."

John rolled his eyes and sighed as he removed his hat. He stepped past a couple feminine looking bags near the door which managed to escape his notice, and he took a seat in his old chair.

"I've absolutely got to catch up on the latest London news. Three weeks away has been enough to make me feel completely disconnected! It was nice for Mary though, the time away. After all, she'll be stuck in the flat for the next few weeks, most likely…waiting impatiently." John paused for some sort of response from his friend, but got none.

Just then, he heard some shuffling in the background. John turned to see a lovely young woman disappearing down the hallway with some items in her arms. He gestured behind him, despite the fact that Sherlock hadn't looked at him. "Did um, Mrs. Hudson hire a housekeeper? Did the poor woman finally tire of doing all your washing?" he asked with a chuckle.

The newspaper was set aside straight away now. Sherlock placed his hands slowly in front of his lips and stared at John for a moment. "Ah yes…that."

John frowned. "What do you mean, that?"

"Well, it occurs to me that I should save you a bit of time and share with you the most notable piece of London news since you've been away. I feel it necessary to share this news and all the accompanying details with you because it may well be that I'll be needed your expert advice…in this area." Sherlock paused for effect, making John lean forward a bit in anticipation. It could never be said that the detective wasn't one for drama. "Watson, I was recently married to the former Miss Molly Hooper, who is of course now, Mrs. Molly Holmes." He smiled.

As expected, John did nothing but blink and gape at him for a moment. This being the case, Sherlock went on.

"It is not what you might consider a marriage of sentiment, but instead it is one of business. This is going to pose a few challenges which, as I mentioned, may require your advice."

"Steady on, Holmes. I must have misheard," John insisted, holding up a hand and continuing to look almost horrified. "But I could have sworn you just said that you got…married?"

"Observant as ever, dear doctor."

"Really and truly married? A legal and binding union between man and wife?" John continued to desperately seek clarification.

Sherlock pursed his lips and looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I would say so. It was all properly arranged. I am as married, legally bound, as you say. And we just returned this morning from our honeymoon stay at the Savoy."

John shook his head, obviously trying to decide what to ask next since there were so many questions that had just popped up in his brain. But then, he had the sudden look of an epiphany. "Did you say Molly Hooper?"

"I see the slow pace of the country affected your cognitive processes. Must do something about that, really."

John bypassed his friend's slight and let his face light up a bit. "I know that name, and I remember why as well! You used to correspond with a Molly Hooper. I saw the letters go back and forth on occasion for…well, years! I can logically assume this is the very same woman!"

Sherlock smirked. "Perhaps there's hope for you yet, my dear fellow."

The brightening of John's expression melted away as suddenly as it had appeared. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure said woman wasn't right nearby and he leaned forward to speak in a heated whisper. "What in God's name did you mean by a business arrangement? Please, for the love of all that is good, tell me this is not to do with a case!"

"Of course not," Sherlock said casually as he began filling his pipe.

John continued, his concern still heightened. "And I know you when you're bored and your mind is unoccupied. If this is some sort of sick and twisted version of a real life experiment, so help me God!"

"Watson, relax!" Sherlock said with an easy laugh. "This is no such experiment."

John sat back in his chair, looking calmed, but still very unsure. "But, you did say that this was a business arrangement. So…"

Sherlock raised his brows. "So…what?"

"What is the business arrangement then? What exactly will you be getting out of it?" John asked in exasperation.

Sherlock shrugged and answered very simply. "The benefit is primarily _hers,_ Watson."

At this, John's brow shot up in surprise. "Really, Holmes!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes before glaring at the doctor. "Do not be quite so crass, Watson. Nothing remotely close to _that._ Mrs. Holmes and I have no notions of the... _carnal_ sort. Strictly business, you see, both in legal and financial matters. And as I mentioned, mostly to her benefit."

His sense of societal propriety pacified, John Watson paused as the statement sunk in. Sherlock Holmes was doing something this monumental and life altering…for someone else's benefit?

"Really?" John asked, his tone softened as his concern obviously lessened. "I'm afraid you'll have to explain."

A look of something like pride blossomed Sherlock's features. "Molly, you'll be especially interested to hear, is a natural in the field of medicine. She would very much like to be a doctor. And with the name our marriage gives her, and my backing as her husband, she will have no trouble at all in accomplishing that task. As a single woman with only moderate fortune, it would have been incredibly difficult if not impossible. She officially starts her studies at Bart's this coming autumn."

"Well," John began, almost too flabbergasted to respond. "That is rather fascinating, I must say. And she agreed to this willingly?"

"Oh yes, most willingly," Sherlock said with a smile.

John narrowed his eyes as he mulled over all that Sherlock had just shared. How extraordinary! The fact that Sherlock would go to these lengths for this woman…it certainly got him wondering exactly what the true nature of Sherlock's feelings were. He didn't want to pry at the moment though. Not only was the woman herself in the adjoining rooms, but it was unlikely that John would be able to extract much of an answer anyway. Mostly because if anyone was in the dark about Sherlock's deepest feelings for another human being, it would most of all be the detective himself.

"Besides," Sherlock added. "It is only temporary, after all."

A crease formed on John's brow again. "Temporary? In what way?"

"Oh, well, the marriage will be annulled once her studies are coming to a close and she no longer requires any possible assistance. Did I not mention that yet?" he asked casually as he rose from his chair.

John stood as well and was just beginning to stutter a possible response when his friend's lovely new wife entered the sitting room with a bright smile.

"My goodness, you must be the famous Dr. John Watson!" Molly exclaimed, extending her hand.

John took her hand and smiled back. "The very same, though I doubt if I'm all that famous. It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Holmes."

He noticed how her cheeks pinked prettily. "A pleasure, Dr. Watson. Please allow me to tell you how much I love your stories!"

"Do you?" John looked clearly thrilled to hear it.

"Oh yes!" Molly paused, as if remembering something. "Though, it is a bit distracting sometimes when you shift focus to the client and how they're feeling emotionally. I'm getting so wrapped up in the lovely little details of the crime, and then suddenly it's all about the crying widow. I should very much like to hear all the, shall we say, gory details of the victim's fates. It would be so much easier to logically follow the progression of how Sherlock solved the crimes." She finished with a sweet little smile that felt so out of place, considering the subject matter.

John was rendered a bit speechless.

Sherlock stepped over to stand directly next to Molly as he grinned proudly at his friend. "And this, Watson, is my wife."

* * *

Molly sat on the sofa, reading her book as best she could. Oh heavens, but she was tired. Her eyes kept drooping more and more and she felt it possible that she might simply drop soon. She glanced at the clock…it was past eleven. Despite her fatigue, she'd been consciously putting off retiring for the night.

Because there was the little matter of where that would be happening.

Molly knew that there was no getting around her and Sherlock bed sharing during her family's stay. But they hadn't specifically discussed what the arrangement would be for _this_ night. Her mother and sister would be arriving tomorrow. And poor Molly was absolutely mortified to speak up and say to Sherlock, "excuse me, but where should I sleep tonight?"

Sherlock had been reading and thinking off and on for the past couple of hours, and it seemed he almost didn't remember she was there. She had noticed the famous violin sitting by the window, and part of her had longed to hear him play again. It had been years since she'd been able to listen to him play. These were the thoughts that she lost herself in when suddenly, he looked over from where he sat in his leather chair and frowned. "You're up rather late, are you not?"

Molly looked back at him with likely red rimmed eyes. "Oh um, I suppose," she said with a little shrug.

Sherlock looked her over with narrowed eyes. "You would usually retire by at least half past ten while we were staying at the Savoy." His lips parted as he made some quick deductions, and then he spoke again. "Are you…unsure of your place for tonight?" He smirked playfully.

Molly couldn't help her embarrassed blush at being found out. "Well it didn't really come up before," she said, avoiding his gaze and then chewed her lip nervously.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Molly, obviously you are welcome to begin using my bed as your own tonight. It would be rather impractical for you to sleep upstairs for one night and then have to remake the bed before your family's arrival tomorrow."

She let out a small sigh of relief. Honestly, she had been thinking the same thing. "Well, good then." Molly gave him a quick smile and then looked back at her book.

Sherlock continued watching her, a little amused at her nervousness. "If you read much longer, Molly, I believe the words will begin to blur together."

Molly closed the book with a thump and exhaled heavily. "Yes, you're right." She stood and smiled. "Well then, I suppose I'll be off to bed."

"Assistance with your corset?" Sherlock offered as he also stood from his seat.

"Oh, um, yes please," Molly agreed with a nod.

They went down the hall and into the bedroom together, Sherlock turning out the lamps as he went.

"Are you going to bed as well?" Molly asked.

"May as well. I can't sleep the day away tomorrow, seeing as we don't know exactly when your mother and sister will be arriving." He removed his jacket and hung it up once they were in the room.

Molly took her blouse off, loosened her skirt a bit, and removed her corset cover to allow Sherlock the access to the laces. He worked somewhat quickly now and loosened the garment enough for her to be able to remove it herself. She stepped away and retrieved a nightgown from the dresser.

"I'll be…just a minute," Molly said awkwardly, gesturing toward the hallway since she planned to change in the washroom.

"Yes, fine," Sherlock answered without turning to look at her and continuing to work at the buttons of his shirt.

Once Molly had put on her nightgown, she crept back to the bedroom, unfortunately feeling far more jittery and far less tired than she was twenty minutes before. When she came back in, Sherlock was propped up in bed, comfortably reading. He barely looked over as she padded around the room and put her clothing away before approaching the bed.

Molly carefully pulled back the covers and sat herself down before pulling them back up again and quickly over her legs. She gingerly lay back against her pillow and then tugged the blankets up a little higher. And then…she just lay there.

Many minutes passed as she lay alternating between staring up at the ceiling and then trying to keep her eyes closed and relax enough to fall asleep. She was grateful when finally, Sherlock turned his lamp off on the bedside table and settled down under the covers himself. She prayed that the comfort of darkness would help her to drift off…but she was rather disappointed when many more minutes passed and she could still feel no calm settle over her. In all honesty, she was simply uncomfortable. She couldn't bring herself to move! She was afraid to shift, to roll over, to curl her legs or move her arms. Molly could only hope that if she lay still like this for long enough, fatigue would naturally overtake her…

"You are going to allow yourself to breathe during the night, correct?" Sherlock's deep voice in the dark almost made her jump.

Molly let out a breath that she hadn't been aware she was controlling. "Um, I'm breathing fine, thank you," she said, her voice cracking in the dark stillness.

"It's obvious you're not able to fall asleep, and I feel sure it's not the fault of my bed, which is of remarkably high quality. Do us both a favor and adjust yourself in some way…your discomfort is rather distracting."

Molly heard and felt him shift and roll over to face away from her. "Oh…ok." She dutifully obeyed and shifted herself a little, trying to get more comfortable. But it was so difficult. Her anxiety was the most uncomfortable thing of all, and that couldn't be remedied by any which way she lay her body. As she lay there in the dark of the Baker Street bedroom, her husband at her side, she felt the first pang of homesickness. And she began longing for the comfort of her mother and sister's presence the next day…which felt like an eternity away.

* * *

"Oh, my darling, how we've missed you!" Molly's mother exclaimed as she clung to her eldest child. She pulled back and cradled her cheeks, looking her over with typical motherly concern. "My, but you look absolutely exhausted! I do hope this move has not completely done you in. You must get enough rest!"

"I wager she is not getting nearly enough rest!" Becky said with a giggle and a wink at her sister.

"Rebecca Hooper!" Mrs. Hooper hissed. "Would you please attempt to behave like a dignified young lady?" She sighed in exasperation as both her daughter's laughed a bit.

Sherlock came down the stairs after having brought some of the ladies bags up to the spare room, and stepped over next to Molly, lacing his fingers with hers. "I do hope the room is enough to your liking, ladies. A bit more cramped than you're used to, I imagine," he said with a smile of concern.

"Oh, we will be perfectly fine!" Mrs. Hooper assured him quickly. "Your hospitality is very much appreciated."

"Mother, would you like some tea?" Molly offered.

"Perhaps later," the older woman said with a slightly wearily expression. "I should very much like to have a bit of rest after our journey. Rebecca and I will unpack our things and settle in, and then we can have a proper visit this evening."

"Mrs. Hudson had insisted on making super tonight for all of us," Sherlock added. "So the two of you can feel free to rest up before then."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," Rebecca said with a genuine smile. "We're so very excited to be here."

"Indeed we are," Mrs. Hooper agreed with a smile of her own. Though, that smile only thinly veiled her overall slight concern, and her determination to decide just what sort of marriage her precious daughter had gotten herself into.

* * *

"Thank you so much, you didn't have to go to any trouble," Molly said with a sweet smile as she accepted the tea cup from the smiling blonde woman. She had decided to pay a visit to Mrs. Watson that afternoon while her mother and sister were getting settled and resting up.

Mary carefully eased herself into the chair next to Molly and poured herself a cup of tea as well. "Oh it's no trouble! The tea is as much for me as it is for you, my dear!" Mary said with a wink. "Besides, you're worth a bit of trouble. You have no idea how very fascinated I am to meet you!"

Molly blushed as she took a little sip. "I assure you, I'm not all that fascinating."

"My husband and I may well disagree," Mary said with a sly little smirk. "We have rarely been as shocked as when we learned of your recent marriage to Mr. Holmes."

"Yes, well I suppose that must have been rather unexpected," Molly said with a nervous little laugh.

"That's not to say we weren't pleased as could be!" Mary clarified, reaching over to briefly place her hand on Molly's. "Please do not misunderstand our surprise for disapproval."

Molly smiled, admittedly relieved to hear that. "I'm very glad. Not that I would blame you if you had your concerns. Given the um…nature of our arrangement…"

Mary laughed lightly. "Sherlock Holmes is not an ordinary sort of man. It is hardly surprising that when he finally enters into marriage, the circumstances are far from ordinary! Besides, I find the cause to be absolutely heartwarming. How lovely for you to be able to achieve such a dream! I have no doubt that you will make an excellent Doctor. There should be more of us in the field, to be sure!"

"Why thank you." Molly beamed proudly. "I must say, I'm thrilled to get started. And I am awfully grateful for all that Sherlock and his brother did to help the process along."

"Mister Holmes must have quite a lot of faith in you to put in this much effort," Mary said, her blue eyes peeking over the tea cup. "John and I have rarely seen him care so much about another person."

A blush erupted on Molly's cheeks again. "Well, we've um…known each other so long and…he's always knows what I wanted to do and…well to be honest, he may have also upset me recently. I think he felt the need to make a sort of gesture of friendship."

"I can't think of a lovelier gesture," Mary said kindly. "And regardless of the circumstances of your marriage, I must say that I wish I'd have got to see the wedding with my own two eyes! My goodness, to hear Sherlock Holmes saying his marriage vows!" She shook her head and giggled as she set her cup down.

Molly couldn't help but chuckle as well. She had to admit that if she hadn't been there and married him herself, she'd hardly believe it either.

"You must tell me a bit about the wedding, Mrs. Holmes," Mary urged. "I do hope it was a lovely day for you."

"Oh, do please call me, Molly," Molly said earnestly. "Mrs. Holmes still sounds all so very new and not quite me, yet."

Mary grinned brightly. "I shall call you Molly, and you shall call me Mary, though I do believe that soon enough you will be the very natural Mrs. Holmes. Now, that's settled! The wedding details, if you please."

Molly looked down at the steaming tea she held in her lap and half her mouth lifted in a smile as she spoke softly. "It was…well, I hate to say, but I barely remember much about it. It was all such a blur really." She looked up and smiled at Mary. "Sherlock and his brother arranged everything, to make it quick and tidy. I honestly just put on my nicest afternoon dress and showed up. I hardly even know what I said, though I must have repeated the vows correctly. I just remember standing there and staring up at Sherlock and babbling out whatever I had to say. To think back on it, only two weeks later...it's almost like a half forgotten dream."

"But a dream, nonetheless," Mary offered with a knowing smile.

Molly looked down again shyly.

Mary went on, her voice cautious. "This marriage isn't just about becoming a Doctor for you, is it, Molly?"

Molly looked up in surprise and stared back into those piercingly perceptive blue eyes as her jaw fell open and she tried and failed to provide some sort of response.

"Forgive me!" Mary jumped in while Molly struggled with words. "I should not have said that. It was terribly forward and none of my business. I should really learn to hold my tongue a bit more firmly, especially with someone I would very much like to call a friend!"

Molly instantly shook her head and gave Mary a smile. "No no, please don't apologize. I'm not offended. And trust me, I would very much like to be able to call you a friend as well! Besides," Molly added with a little twinkle in her eyes. "I just wasn't sure what I could have possibly said in my own defense, since according to Sherlock, you seem to be able to quite accurately distinguish between truth and lies."

Mary smiled and gave Molly's hand another little pat. "Well, please know that as I am now your friend, I am more than happy to be a listening ear on _any subject._ I will be willing to listen and help as best I can." She glanced down at he rounded belly. "With far too much time to spare!"

Molly smiled and laughed as she gave Mary's hand a squeeze in return. "I think it very likely that I'll take you up on that."


	6. Chapter 6

Drinking was not Sherlock Holmes' vice of choice, but he didn't hesitate freely pouring the wine this evening during the special occasion…dinner with the in-laws! Things had grown a bit awkward at the table as the meal was coming to a close. He admired Molly's bravery, jumping into the news of her acceptance to Bart's medical school, but he did wonder if his mother in-law's mood was going to be salvageable after her mind had clearly now been filled with nothing but concerns.

"It was lovely of Mrs. Hudson to prepare such a spread," Rebecca said cheerfully, trying to fill the silence that had now settled in. She cleared her throat. "Really delicious."

Mrs. Hooper obviously wasn't interested in a change of topic. She opened her mouth and spoke her mind to Molly. "My dear, do you really think this is the proper time to embark on such a…a life altering project? You have only just now turned your life upside down by marrying and moving to the city. And now this? No disrespect to you, Mr. Holmes, but have the both of you actually thought this through?"

Sherlock was very carefully watching Molly as her mother spoke. She was obviously affected by the opinion of her mother. It mattered to her. To Sherlock it was rather black and white. Molly wanted to be a doctor, and now Molly was going to get to be a doctor. There was no down side to be seen, and no reason for Molly to feel regret. But since it wasn't that simple for her, he knew he'd have to more cautiously deal with the situation. He had to help defend their decision, while still salvaging the mother and daughter relationship.

Sherlock reached over and took hold of Molly's hand atop the table. He smiled briefly at her and then across the table at Mrs. Hooper. "Mrs. Hooper, you must allow me to tell you that I am completely convinced of Molly's ability to complete the necessary schooling. She is brilliant, and very obviously gifted in this field. And I firmly believe that nothing should stand in the way of her being allowed to have the career that she desires." He felt the grip of Molly's little fingers tighten affectionately around his own, which made him turn and connect his eyes to hers as he finished speaking. "She deserves that."

After a moment, Mrs. Hooper's words averted their gaze. "Mr. Holmes, I appreciate the sentiment behind your words, but it is not her intelligence that concerns me. Do keep in mind that I raised her and I needn't be reminded of my daughter's brilliance and ability," she said firmly. "I have my own dreams of a more progressive world, where my girls can be and do whatever they please. But no matter their abilities, the people and world around them is what will make a path like that so very difficult. If they aren't accepted, if they're ridiculed, if their _children_ are ridiculed…the cost for dreaming in such ways can sometimes be too high. You may not understand this yet, Mr. Holmes, but all a parent wants is to see that their child is happy and safe. And sometimes the path to a dream is in reality, not a happy one."

"I understand there will be difficulties," Molly finally said. "No, this is not the conventional path that I've chosen. But we've not acted completely without thought. Doing this now, as a married woman with a respected husband, is the easiest course. Goodness knows that it shouldn't have to be that way. But it is, and I accepted that long ago! I am trying to do this at the right time and in the right way." She paused, seeming to hesitate on her next words. "Sherlock loves me, and he wanted to help me with this. It's more important to him that I fulfill this ambition than to have me sitting here at Baker Street dusting the shelves!"

"Heaven forbid," Sherlock said with a laugh on his lips. "I do so dislike unsolicited dusting."

Molly responded by looking at him again and they exchanged a warm smile. There was something comforting in it. Sherlock had to admit that they were an excellent team, and there was really nothing pretend about that.

Mrs. Hooper sighed, pinching her lips together for a moment. "I'll say no more about it for now. I understand that the both of you are adults and that you are more than entitled to make your own decisions as man and wife. You'll have to forgive me. I am a mother, after all, and we cannot discard our worry so very easily."

Sherlock looked intently at his mother-in-law. "It does you credit, madam. However, please believe me when I tell you that I intend to allay as much of that worry as possible. I want Molly's happiness and safety as much as you do, and I won't allow anything to jeopardize that." He swallowed thickly. "She means the world to me."

Mrs. Hooper finally gave the couple a small but genuine smile. "I am very glad to hear it," she said softly.

"I personally think it's all so very romantic!" Rebecca chimed in with an excited grin.

Molly laughed and smiled at her sister. "Well thank you. I'm not sure there's much romance in studying to become a doctor, but I do appreciate the sentiment."

"Don't be silly," Sherlock said with a smirk as he lifted Molly's hand and then pressed a kiss to it as he looked into her eyes. "If you could only see the way your eyes light up and shimmer while listing chemical compounds, you might not say such a thing. There's romance in just about anything, if one looks hard enough." He gave her a wink that was meant to convey a secret and intimate message between husband and wife, and she very appropriately responded by looking at him through her lashes and blushing attractively. That is, he could only assume it was an attractive sort of blush…

Sherlock cleared his throat and finally released her hand. "Shall we take tea in the sitting room?"

* * *

Molly had already gotten some assistance from Sherlock with her corset and was now sitting on the edge of his- their bed while she braided her hair. The evening had gone rather well, as she thought back. Her mother and sister were wooed by the lovely dinner that Mrs. Hudson prepared, and it took the pressure off of her for that night. Sherlock didn't do much more than push his food around the plate and he became mentally distant a few times, but he also clearly made an effort to be the loving husband that Molly's mother needed to see. Especially when the subject of medical school was broached. That, of course, meant everything to her.

Molly tied up the bottom of her braid and then gently wrung her hands together as she recalled how many times Sherlock had cradled them in his own much larger ones. He spoke about her with pride, complimented her, and then seemed to light up and watch her intently whenever she did the talking. It was almost distracting at times…distractingly convincing. Sherlock may not have had much to worry about when it came to her ability to play a part, but he certainly didn't lie about his own acting skills either.

Unexpectedly, the man himself came into the bedroom, loosening his collar as he closed the door behind him.

"Oh…are you going to bed now?" Molly asked, probably not completely covering over the nervousness in her voice.

"It seems I am," he said in a tone of slight disappointment. "I would have stayed up longer but your mother came down to fetch a glass of water and I could tell she was a bit surprised to see me lingering in the sitting room."

"I see," Molly said softly. She took a deep breath. "Thank you for this, Mister Holmes. I mean, about earlier, with my mother and everything. I know it's not something that you find particularly enjoyable, so I want you to know how much I appreciate it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Hooper, this was the arrangement, it's no trouble at all," Sherlock replied as he undid his cufflinks, dismissing her comments as if it were nothing. His tone was curt and matter of fact, and it reminded Molly very quickly of the reality of Sherlock Holmes.

She repressed a sigh. "Well you can keep the lamp on and read if you like. I don't mind." She scooted back up toward the pillow and tucked her legs under the covers. To be honest, she would be a bit relieved if Sherlock didn't tuck himself in right away.

"I'd prefer to think, actually," Sherlock said casually as he tossed his waistcoat over the little chair. "Don't need light for that."

"Oh." Molly sunk down on the pillow and tried to relax. She prayed that she'd be able to sleep more soundly tonight. A second terrible night's sleep in a row would really do her in.

Ten minutes later and Molly was wide eyed in the dark with only the sound of hers and her husband's soft rhythmic breathing. She actually felt a lump form in her throat after a few minutes. All she wanted was a peaceful night's rest, and she wondered how long it would take her to settle into a more easy routine. Heaven help her if this was how her nights went once she was spending days in class and trying to actually learn something!

"Miss Hooper?" Sherlock's voice cut softly through the dark.

"Hm?"

"You're…uncomfortable."

Hearing him say the words made Molly feel all the more mortified. "I- I'm fine," she attempted, but that clearly didn't convince him. She heard him sigh, and then felt him shift and turn over to face her before speaking again.

"Do please save us both time and admit that if you continue like this, there will be many more sleepless nights ahead."

She said nothing, so he went on.

"It occurred to me, just now, that perhaps your discomfort is not so much to do with the new location. But perhaps more specifically…with me."

Molly frowned at this and turned to face him, although neither of them could see much anyway. "You?" He paused for a moment, and she wasn't sure but it almost seemed that _he_ was now a bit uncomfortable.

"I thought perhaps you might feel a bit more at ease if I assure you of my commitment to our arrangement, exactly as we had already decided it should go."

Molly was a little confused and wondered where he was going with this. Did he think she was worried about him backing out? "Um, well that's good," she said quietly.

Sherlock sighed again, as if he wished he didn't have to go on further. "But more specifically, you needn't have any fear where I'm concerned. I mean to say, you needn't have any fear for your…virtue."

Molly was awfully glad for the dark then. Her heart pounded as the blood rushed to her face. So that was what he meant! This was what he thought might be causing her discomfort? She could have almost laughed aloud if she weren't so embarrassed.

"Oh," she breathed out, unable to say much else.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I wouldn't ever want you to be concerned that I would take advantage of our situation. We may be legally married, but I assure you that in my mind it is on paper alone." There was a detectable note of pride in his voice as he went on. "As you know, I am not like most men- a constant slave to impulses and desires. I exercise complete control over myself physically and emotionally."

 _So he has to control himself then?_ Molly couldn't help but instantly question. Though, her hopes were short lived.

"Besides…" Sherlock chuckled a little, seemingly in an attempt to put her even more at ease. "The two of us are nothing more than…old friends," he said softly.

"Yes, of course we are," Molly agreed quickly, reminding herself that this was the real reason why Sherlock had no trouble controlling himself. But a moment later, her heart absolutely halted when she felt Sherlock's hand close around hers on the bed between them as he spoke in a low tone.

"And I believe this whole thing would go quite a bit more smoothly if we were both completely at ease with each other, both in public…and in private. That means you and I needn't tiptoe around each other, even in the confines of this bed."

She had to swallow thickly before reply in this time. "Well um, thank you for saying all that. It does actually mean quite a lot." It was true, she did appreciate the sentiment behind his words. It may have, on the one hand, reminded her of the great emotional chasm between them. But on the other hand, it reminded her that Sherlock was first and foremost her friend. Anything he refused her romantically didn't mean that he just didn't care at all. If this whole business had taught her anything, it was that Sherlock Holmes cared more than she realized before.

"Good," he said simply, and then released her hand. "Now perhaps I can do some thinking, and you can get some much needed sleep."

Molly lay there, silently thinking to herself for a moment. Not only had Sherlock's little speech actually succeeded in adding to her comfort level, she also realized that she should start taking him seriously right away. Time to get comfortable then…

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Mm?"

"Could you get up and get my wooly socks from the dresser?"

There was a short pause. "You want me to get…your wooly socks?" Sherlock questioned, as if it were the most confounding mystery.

"Mhm. My feet are rather chilly in here," she said, smirking to herself in the dark. "Here, I'll show you!" She very slowly began sliding her feet over towards his.

Sherlock bolted from the bed even quicker than she expected, and while he could be heard rummaging through her things to look for the socks, Molly was lost in a fit of giggles.

Despite the strange beginning to that night, there were many more restful hours of sleep at 221B than there had been the night before. Nothing was perfect quite yet. But it was certainly a start.

* * *

"Wait just a moment. Don't leave the bedroom just yet."

Sherlock's words halted Molly before she opened the door and she turned to look at him in question. "Why? What's wrong?"

He approached while still adjusting his suit jacket over his shoulders. "I can hear your mother and sister in the kitchen. We should walk out together…and you should be giggling," he whispered.

Molly raised her brows. "Giggling?"

"Mm," Sherlock answered, completely straight faced. "You know, as if we'd just been involved in-"

"Yes yes, I think I understand your meaning!" Molly quickly cut him off before the explanation could become even more embarrassing.

Sherlock's lips lifted in a half smile. "Oh excellent…now you're also flushed."

Molly sighed in exasperation at her all too expressive skin tone. "Right, fine. I'll pretend to giggle," she agreed and turned toward the door again.

"Giggling is a very difficult thing to fake. It can sound idiotic and obvious if it isn't genuine, especially to people who know you well."

Molly was about to turn and question him again, but she didn't have time to do so before she felt his fingertips make contact with her neck.

"Agh!" Molly squeaked out and scrunched her shoulders, laughter starting to bubble instantly. "Mr. Holmes, s-stop!"

"Pleased to see your neck is as sensitive as I deduced," he whispered back with his own little chuckle.

"Stop! Stop!" Molly sputtered out and tried to swat his hand away while also going for the door knob. She scrambled out of the bedroom still weakly objecting through her involuntary laughter.

But his hands had left her neck the second they emerged from the room and before she knew it, they were standing there in the entry to the kitchen, both stilling their laughter and Molly definitely feeling the burn of a blush on her cheeks. Her mother and sister looked over at them with obvious amusement. Well, Sherlock was certainly right about making that appear genuine.

Sherlock cleared his throat and gave her a secret little smile as he skirted past her and into the kitchen. "Good morning, Mrs Hooper…Miss Rebecca."

"Morning," they said in unison.

Sherlock grabbed a couple tea cups and then smiled at Molly where she still stood. "Tea, darling?"

"Oh um, yes please," Molly finally answered, her voice still cracking a little.

Mrs. Hooper took her tea into the living room and settled on the couch, but Molly sat down next to her sister who was still smirking a little behind her tea cup. A moment later, Sherlock slid a cup over toward Molly.

"Thank you," she said softly, with a still slightly shy smile up at her husband.

He smiled back at her before taking his own tea cup and heading over to his chair by the fire to inspect the paper Mrs. Hudson had left for him on the side table.

Rebecca spoke in a hushed but playful voice to her sister. "You two are completely mad about each other, aren't you?"

Molly pressed her lips together to keep her own smile in check and had no trouble looking convincingly flustered at the question. "Becky, don't be silly," she whispered back.

"Oh come now, I think it's marvelous!" She nudged Molly playfully. "Isn't this what every young woman dreams of? Truly, I'm so pleased for you. After all those years of pining…you deserve this happiness with him."

Molly had to make sure her face didn't turn somber. "Yes, I suppose I do," she said softly. "Thank you, Becky."

"Oh and speaking of what we all deserve," Rebecca said with a glimmer in her eyes. "Does your wonderful new husband have any handsome friends?"

Molly shrugged. "Goodness only knows. The only ones I've met thus far are married…or homeless."

The two sisters exchanged a grimace and then started laughing.

"Yoo hoo!" Everyone turned at the pleasant sound of Mrs. Hudson's voice in the doorway.

"Good morning, everyone," the older woman said with a smile. "Mr. Holmes, I just wanted to bring you the post. This one is for you and Mrs. Holmes. Perhaps a wedding card!" She smiled at Molly.

"Mrs. Hudson, you should have taken dinner with us last night. You did a wonderful job putting it all together," Mrs. Hooper said as Sherlock began opening the letter Mrs. Hudson had handed him.

"Oh no, that's all right! To be truthful, I needed a bit of a rest after all that cooking," she said with a laugh. "And I wanted all of you to have your time to visit. Another time perhaps! I'm so pleased you enjoyed it!"

Molly had walked over to the living room, and as she did, Sherlock stood from his chair and smiled at her. He held out the letter as he spoke. "Fancy a trip to Bart's hospital this afternoon, darling?"

Molly's eyes lit up as she took the letter and began reading. "It's from Dr. Stamford! Oh how lovely of him!"

"What is it?" Mrs. Hooper asked, getting up to see as well.

"Mother, Dr. Stamford works at Bart's hospital. He's a friend of Sherlock's and I met him last week. He was very pleased to hear of my being accepted as a student, and he wrote to specially me and he invited us to come visit him anytime for a tour of the facilities." Molly continued beaming at the words on the page. She looked up at Sherlock and grinned. "Can we truly go today?"

"Believe me, my dear, I am more than glad to take you. It's been far too long since I've been to Bart's myself!" Sherlock looked just as pleased as his wife.

"Oh, I'm so excited!" Molly exclaimed, actually hopping on her feet a little.

"Is a hospital really all that thrilling?" Mrs. Hooper asked, but couldn't help smiling a little at her daughter's contagious joy.

"Mother, this is where I'm going to learn! This is where I'm going to become a doctor! That couldn't be more thrilling!" Molly answered excitedly. She looked at Sherlock again. "So, when can we go?"

"Whenever you'd like, of course," Sherlock said with a smile as he took the letter back and looked at Stamford's words again.

Molly saw the hesitant look on her mother's face. "Oh, um, what about you and Becky? Will you be all right here?" Though Molly was pretty sure that wasn't the source of her mother's expression.

Mrs. Hooper seemed to consciously put on a smile. "Oh, don't fret about us, dear! You and Mr. Holmes go ahead, and we'll be just fine, won't we Rebecca?"

"Of course!" Rebecca chimed in. "Go and have a marvelous time! There's plenty in London for mother and I to find diverting!"

Molly couldn't help but grin at Sherlock again. "I'll just finish my tea then, and we can go?"

"With pleasure," Sherlock murmured as he stepped over to her.

Molly's heart sped up a little as he cradled one side of her face and bent his head to place a light kiss on her forehead. He pulled back, looking into her eyes as he did, before finally turning and taking a seat again in his chair.

Molly felt very sure that between the trip to Bart's and her husband, her heart would have no rest today.

* * *

"How do you like all of it?" Stamford asked with a kind smile toward Molly.

"Oh, it's all so lovely! I couldn't be happier," she answered while continuing to look around in wonder as they walked the hallway.

Sherlock was more than enjoying himself. He loved Bart's. It was, after all, his home away from home here in London. But there was also something truly thrilling about seeing it through Molly's eyes. She lit up every time they entered a room or Stamford explained something to her. She was soaking it all in, enjoying every little detail, and he could also tell that she was picturing herself there. If he were honest, he was picturing her there as well. There was something appealing about the prospect of stopping into Bart's and speaking to Molly on the other side of an examining table. Which was why he was especially happy to hear the next thing Stamford suggested. In fact, the man had beaten him to it!

"Of course, the classrooms and operating theaters are important, but there's one place in particular that I think we should visit before you leave for today. It's certainly the most likely place that you'd run into your esteemed husband!" Stamford smiled at Molly and received a knowing smile from Sherlock.

"Oh? And where's that?" Molly asked.

"Right this way, Mrs. Holmes," Stamford began as he directed them over to the stairwell. "You see, we'll need to go down a couple of floors…we're off to the morgue!"

Sherlock's eyes were on Molly as they arrived at the morgue and Stamford held the door to allow them entry. He smiled to himself as he watched her glance around at everything in complete fascination. They weren't alone though. Sherlock sighed inwardly at the introduction that was about to take place.

"Hello there, Mr Anderson," Stamford said and shook his hand. "Forgive the intrusion, but I was giving the Holmeses a bit of a tour. May I present Mrs Holmes…and Mrs Holmes, this is Phillip Anderson. He's one of our morgue attendants."

Anderson's face lit up as he looked at the petite woman before him. "What a pleasure, Mrs Holmes! A pleasure indeed! I had heard of the happy news, but it is a privilege to meet you in person. My sincerest congratulations to you both! How exciting to see our very own Sherlock Holmes happily settled!"

"Yes yes, that's enough fanfare, thank you, Anderson," Sherlock said with an annoyed expression.

"Oh, that's very kind," Molly said, much more warmly. "And it's a pleasure to meet you as well. Any friend of my husband's is a friend of mine!"

Sherlock couldn't stop the little indignant snort from escaping, whispering "hardly" under his breath. Stamford spoke again, thankfully halting the introduction.

"Mr Anderson was just beginning a basic post mortem for the students it seems, so we don't want to hold you up. But I thought Mrs. Holmes would appreciate a bit of a peek, seeing as she'll be starting as a student officially in the autumn."

"Yes, I'd heard that as well," Anderson said as he continued with the incision he had started. "Congratulations on that happy news, Mrs Holmes! You will no doubt be an excellent addition to our group of students!"

It was at this point that Sherlock looked carefully around the room. Molly had given a little smile and wave to the crowd of a dozen or so young men. They gave her tight smiles and nods in return. But there were also obvious expressions of shock and awe. The idea that this woman was standing here among them was so incredibly foreign. But what Sherlock found equally notable was the reaction to Anderson's post mortem.

Most of the men wore vague expressions of disgust. A couple of them seemed to even be averting their eyes completely. A quick deduction told him everything he needed to know about them: a couple of serious students, a lazy youngest son present through a gift of nepotism, and a barely functioning drunk. Anderson was currently rattling on about the man's cause of death by consumption and what some of the clear indicators were. He had opened the chest cavity completely now and was beginning to dig inside to expose the lungs. As this was going on, and the rest of the men were all but physically recoiling, Molly was doing quite the opposite. She was leaning forward to more easily see what was going on inside the dead man's chest. She was watching everything Anderson did with not just interest, but excited interest. She was riveted, while the rest of them looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here.

Sherlock smiled softly as he looked on, and he hardly noticed Stamford come to stand beside him.

Stamford leaned over and whispered low. "I'm not sure I've ever seen you so taken with anything else besides a corpse," he said with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Sherlock still didn't take his eyes off of Molly. But he chuckled lightly while clasping his hands behind his back and answering Stamford. "Perhaps not." He smiled again as something like pride surged in his chest while he watched Molly lean over and ask Anderson a couple of questions about the condition of the dead man's lungs.

He spoke softly again to Stamford. "But then again... _she_ is quite an exception."


	7. Chapter 7

John leaned back against the leather seat and enjoyed the bumpy ride down the London streets as Sherlock chattered on contentedly. He really was in marvelous spirits; far better than John would have expected, considering he had a flat full of female guests!

"Oh, Watson, have you any idea how invigorating it is to have finally taken on a case again?" Sherlock asked after letting out a satisfied sigh. "It's been weeks, Watson…weeks! Thank heavens for Mr. Jabez Wilson and his remarkably peculiar case!"

"So you've not had a case since before your visit to the countryside? Understandable, seeing as you got rather busy. Marriage and a honeymoon will do that!" John said, still getting used to the fact that Sherlock was indeed…married. "To be honest, I'm impressed that you've not run completely mad by now."

Sherlock shrugged, looking almost sheepish that he'd stayed sane. "Well, this is a sort of…project. At least it provided some sort of activity to occupy my mind with."

"So it's not completely distasteful then? Being married?" John pressed, watching every possible twitch and change in his friend's expression. Sherlock wasn't the only one who had taken a case. John Watson was also trying to solve a mystery.

"It's not much of an inconvenience," Sherlock answered, the string of words spoken practically as fast as one word alone.

John nodded and smiled. "Well that's fortunate. You and Miss H- er, Mrs. Holmes must get along rather well then."

"Always have, yes." Sherlock's tone carried the implication of an inconsequential statement.

John Watson knew better.

"And how do you get on with her mother and sister?" John wanted to delve deeper into his friend's feelings for his wife, but it was best to go a roundabout way. Too much pressure and Sherlock would quickly retreat into his precious brain, rebelling against the prospect of confronting emotion.

"They're tolerable," Sherlock said, offering rather high praise. "Mrs. Holmes is certainly more like her father, but her mother and sister could be worse to live with. Neither of them get in the way or tend to meddle in my affairs, which would have been my biggest complaint. Miss Rebecca seems eager to embrace her sister's marriage, so there's no trouble there. The only current hurdle is Mrs. Hooper's opinion of her daughter entering medical school. She's not exactly thrilled by the idea."

"I see," John answered thoughtfully. "Well, I cannot say I completely blame her. If she were my daughter, I'd have my own misgivings."

Sherlock frowned at him. "Oh please, Watson! Don't tell me you have the misguided notion that a woman should remain at home. Your wife may just kill you in your sleep If she hears of this!"

"It's not that," John said with a short laugh. "It's just the matter of safety. Trusting your child and their abilities is one thing, but it's not so easy to trust the world they're venturing into, and the people in it. Especially when one knows very well what that world is capable of."

Sherlock snorted. "You sound almost exactly like Mrs. Hooper."

"There's an excellent reason for that. We both have the mind of a parent! But, I also must agree that Molly should be allowed to become a doctor if that is her wish. And progress must be made in the world! So fears should not be allowed to cloud decision making. All I will say is that you must take care with your mother in law's feelings. She has every right to be concerned," John stated firmly.

"Oh yes, she made that perfectly clear already. Concerns for Molly, and even our children. Which is understandable," Sherlock said, completely straight faced.

John blinked for a moment as he processed that statement. "Pardon me, but…your children?"

"Mm." Sherlock had leaned back against the seat and shut his eyes momentarily.

John took a deep breath as he felt his face grow a little warm. "Holmes, have the…conditions of your arrangement been significantly altered since we talked a few days ago? How could there be children?" he asked cautiously, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.

Sherlock's eyes flew open then and he seemed a little flustered. "No no, no change of course! I was simply speaking um…" He gestured inarticulately. "Speaking of my mother in law's concerns…which of course are invalid, seeing as there will be no children."

"Ah, I see," John said, nodding with narrowed eyes at his friend.

Sherlock cleared his throat and was silent for a moment, but before John could speak again, he opened his mouth. "I am have thus far been only marginally successful at occupying my in laws during their stay, seeing as I very rarely trouble myself with social activities and outings. But thankfully my brother has just provided me with an activity for the four of us… _La Boheme_."

John smiled. "Ah! Well, you must be pleased at that prospect. I know you appreciate a good opera. Especially because it involves more silent listening than pleasant conversation."

"Indeed. Mycroft found himself in possession of a few tickets as a gift from some foreign dignitary. He has no interest in using them himself and he knew I would be in desperate need of something like this. Molly will surely be glad to hear the news. I know she was unsure that the evening gown she purchased would really end up being useful," he said as his gaze shifted to the window.

John smiled to himself and had to press his lips together to stop the laughter from tumbling out. "Mm, that is good news. I'm sure you're glad that she'll be able to put a lovely gown to good use…for practical reasons of course. Wouldn't want to waste a quality garment," he said pointedly.

John's sarcasm and suggestive tone wasn't unnoticed by Sherlock, and the detective shot him an unappreciative scowl.

Sherlock sighed heavily. "Wouldn't you say it's high time we focus on the case?" His tone had turned irate. "I would far rather concentrate on getting to the bottom of this mysterious 'Red-Headed League' than the mundane particulars of my marriage!"

John took the hint and decided to keep quiet…for now.

* * *

"They're just so lovely!" Molly breathed out as she lifted the books from the crate on the sitting room floor.

"They're just books," Rebecca said with a laugh.

Molly clutched one to her chest. "And they will be my dearest companions for the next two years!" She threw a smile to Sherlock who was sitting in his leather chair and watching the scene. "Second only to you, my darling."

His lips lifted slightly. "I should hope so. Though, I can understand that they would provide formidable competition for me." He winked at her before returning his gaze to the paper. "I was glad to pick them up while I was out at St Barts today. Stamford had them ready for you and it's best not to delay your familiarity with your new studies."

"I can't wait to start looking through them!" Molly said, still gazing at the volumes of knowledge.

"How can you even think about those books when we have the opera to think of this weekend!" Rebecca sang out as she crossed the room with a spring in her step.

Molly glanced at Sherlock and smiled as she answered her sister. "I admit, that is quite a thrill. I would very much like to thank your brother, Sherlock."

"Trust me, he was all too happy to give up the tickets. No taste for those sorts of things himself."

Molly stood from where she was unloading books on the floor and stepped over to where Sherlock was sitting. "I mean it though," she said more softly. "It's wonderful of you to take us."

This seemed to catch his attention and he looked away from his paper and up at her. She saw him swallow before he answered her. "It's no trouble." His voice was soft as well.

Molly gave him a little smile. "It still means a great deal." It really did. She knew very well that they all lived in a world where husbands were not obliged to show their wives or their wives' families any special affection or attention. The world taught boys and men that their pursuits and concerns were paramount, and their wives' were secondary at best. They may be playing at all of this, but that didn't mean Sherlock had to play at it so very nicely.

She leaned down, noticing the way his perceptive eyes watched her carefully all the way, gently placing a hand on his shoulder…and then a kiss on his cheek. Her senses were instantly filled with him. The way his skin felt beneath her lips, the vaguely spicy smell of his soap, the sounds of his breathing…it was all nothing short of divine. And it was all she could do to make herself pull away again.

Molly's cheeks were warm as she stood and looked down at her husband. It wasn't till after she'd done it that she realized that is was the first kiss that had been given _by her_. Sherlock's expression was a bit unreadable, but his eyes were burning up at her rather brightly. It took a moment, but a small smile soon followed.

"Well," Molly said with a shaky little exhale as she turned away again. "I think I'll set these textbooks in the bedroom for now."

Sherlock had set a small table by the window in their bedroom and it was serving as a makeshift desk for Molly. He had mentioned turning the spare bedroom into a better office for her studies come autumn, since her family would be long gone by then. But for now, she loved the little space she had. She picked up half the textbooks and brought them into the bedroom to carefully arranging them atop the desk. She picked up the last one, which was on anatomy, and was about to set it in place when a piece of paper fell out on the ground. Molly set the book down and bent to grab it. Perhaps someone had misplaced some lecture notes or something.

But the moment she picked up the paper and turned it over, her jaw fell open a little. This was not what she expected. It was an anti-suffragette advertisement from a magazine. There was a cleverly executed illustration of a disheveled and dirty home with a baby sitting on the floor crying and a husband looking at his wit's end. Over the top of the illustration, the heading read, " _Destruction of our homes means destruction of the empire. Go home to your husbands!"_

Molly swallowed hard as she set the paper down on the desk. She wondered what the chances were that an advertisement like that had happened to find its way into one of the textbooks meant for her. Most certainly Sherlock had nothing to do with it, so that meant it likely came from someone within the hospital.

She heard footsteps approaching the bedroom and her immediate reaction was to shove the paper into the drawer in the desk. She quickly closed it and turned just as Sherlock walked in carrying the rest of her textbooks.

"This is the last of them. Everything seem to be in order?" he asked, handing the books over.

"Mmhm," Molly hummed and nodded with a cheery smile. "It all looks good."

"Excellent," Sherlock said, looking pleased as well. He turned and left the room again.

Molly opened the drawer again and made sure to stick the paper underneath her stationary. She didn't want anyone else seeing this. The last thing anyone needed was to think that this whole idea wasn't safe after all. She didn't want to trouble Sherlock with a problem to solve, or give her mother something to worry over. And surely it was nothing to worry over anyway. Whatever it was would blow over all too quickly. She had already prepared herself that she'd need thickened skin to take on a challenge like this, and apparently she was right.

A bit of disapproval was nothing she couldn't handle on her own.

* * *

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror above the fireplace and adjusted his bow tie one more time just as Mrs. Hooper and Miss Rebecca came down the stairs, all dressed and ready to go.

"There seems to be one missing," Sherlock commented with a smile as the two of them approached.

"Molly is just behind us. She won't be long," Mrs. Hooper said with an excited sort of look exchanged with her younger daughter.

"This is all so thrilling, Mr. Holmes! I've always wanted to go to the opera!" Rebecca exclaimed as she moved over to the window to look out on the London evening sky.

"All the more pressure for the event to live up to expectation," Sherlock remarked while taking his hat and coat off the hook by the door. "And exactly how much longer is my wife going to be? I imagine the experience could be tarnished a bit by a late arrival."

"Trust me, Mr. Holmes," Rebecca said, strolling back over from the window. "Any wait will be well worth it. Molly is going to look absolutely beautiful!"

"Far too much emphasis is placed on physical appearance," Sherlock stated with a little huff. "Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influen-" The words very quickly got stuck at the back of his throat, unable to make their way out of his opened mouth.

Molly had walked into the doorway, and it was like someone turned on a brilliant lamp. She wore a champagne gown with delicate beading down the front of the bodice and over much of the skirt. The tiny beads reflected the light, and seemed to make any bit of her exposed skin glow. Sherlock was used to observing and taking in details, but this was almost too much to sort through. His eyes barely knew where to look first. The beads and the satin fabric, the shimmering little gems that hung from her ears, the way her curled hair was pinned at the back of her head with a few strands fortunate enough to lay on the back of her neck, her arms that were adorned with satin gloves up to the elbow, the admittedly artistic shape that the gown created by hugging her little body, the touch of pink on her lips and cheeks…and the way her brown eyes seemed to contain flecks of gold that he'd never seen before when she looked at him.

Rebecca leaned in a bit and Sherlock heard her whisper. "What was that foolishness you were saying about beauty, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock could only respond by finally shutting his gaping mouth.

Molly entered the little sitting room, looking giddy but a bit self-conscious as her mother approached and touched her face gently.

"My dear, you look absolutely stunning!" Mrs. Hooper "This gown looks like it was made just for you."

"Molly, it fits like an absolute dream!" Rebecca chimed in. "It truly is perfect."

"Oh, thank you," Molly answered, applying a natural blush beneath the bit of rouge she'd clearly applied. She glanced at Sherlock for a split second, but then back to the comfort zone of her mother and sister. "It certainly does fit. Though, it fits so very well that I'm not sure I'll be able to catch my breath all night!" She pressed a gloved hand to her abdomen as she let out a little laugh.

It was then that Sherlock finally stepped out of his trance and his mouth produced words that seemed to come from somewhere other than his brain. "Neither will I," he said in a tone that made all three women in the room stare at him.

He took the few strides over to his wife and then took her hand from where it rested on her middle. Molly stared up at him, clearly a bit thrown by the look in the eyes staring back down at her. Sherlock raised her hand to his mouth and pressed the satin covered skin firmly to his lips. He held it there for a moment before slowly pulling it back again and smoothing his thumb over the place where his lips had just been.

Finally Sherlock drew a breath and looked away from Molly's wide eyes and smiled at the other two slightly awestruck women. "The cab will be waiting downstairs. We should be on our way."

Mother and youngest daughter nodded in agreement, putting on their wraps and making their way to the door.

Sherlock took Molly's wrap from her other arm and lifted it gently onto her shoulders. Then he stepped over beside her and extended her arm. She took it with a smile as he looked back down at her. They started down the stairs, following Molly's family who were a bit ahead.

"Bravo. You did all that…really well," Molly whispered.

"Oh good," Sherlock whispered back. Though, without thinking, he almost asked, "did what really well?"

The four of them climbed into the cab and got themselves settled. Sherlock was paying attention to the boy lighting the lamps along Baker Street as the women were chatting and the cab began rolling along on their way to the Royal Opera House. He tried to look out the window for most of their journey, since it seemed to be better that way.

For whatever reason, he really did have a bit of trouble catching his breath.

* * *

The four of them clapped enthusiastically as the second act came to a close and the lights began to come back on. Sherlock looked over and saw that all three women's faces were absolutely enthralled.

Mrs. Hooper reached for her fan though, and began waving in front of her face rapidly. "Goodness, I could certainly use a bit of fresh air!"

"I'll take you outside, Mother," Molly offered. "We'll be back in just a few minutes."

Sherlock stood and gave Molly a hand as she got up from her seat and arranged her skirt. She and Mrs. Hooper made their way out of the lovely little box and out to get some air, although Molly looked back at Sherlock briefly before disappearing through the doorway.

"This is indeed as glorious as I anticipated," Rebecca said with a grin as she leaned on the arm of her chair. "You are quite the winning husband to be so kind to us."

Sherlock shrugged. "It's no trouble. My brother supplied the tickets and I happen to enjoy a good opera myself."

"Well, I still think it's impressive," she insisted. "Especially, if you don't mind me saying, since it's _you._ "

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Meaning?"

Rebecca drew a breath as she cocked her head in thought for a second. "I suppose it's still a bit strange, seeing you like this…with Molly. In truth, most of what I knew of you through Molly was a bit confounding. I couldn't really understand why she wanted your friendship so badly. Forgive me saying so," she added as a little aside.

"Not at all," Sherlock said instantly, as if it were as common as someone commenting on the weather.

"I suppose it genuinely pained me to watch Molly all those years," Rebecca continued, looking a little more somber. She looked straight into Sherlock's eyes. "She loved you so very much."

Sherlock stared back at her, frozen at the sound of the weighty words.

Rebecca went on as she took out her fan and began wafting a breeze against her face and neck. "She always did, at least as long as I can remember. Goodness, how she lived for the days when she'd see one of your letters arrive in the years after you had moved away! But it was difficult to watch for my mother and I. We always felt she was wasting her time and wasting her heart on you. It seemed you were…" She paused, searching for the right word. "Well, rather immune to those sorts of feelings."

Sherlock realized he should probably say something. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "Perhaps I was, at least for a long while." He paused and added, "Though, that does not mean that I cared nothing for your sister through our younger years. I valued her friendship just as much as she valued mine." That was no lie. And he couldn't help but realize that there was something refreshing about expression genuine feelings about Molly.

Rebecca gave him a sweet little smile. "Yes, well I'm still much happier now that you've come to your senses and realized how you _truly_ feel for my sister. Now she won't be alone."

Sherlock's face fell a little, but he righted it quickly.

"Perhaps I am no expert," Rebecca said with a shrug. "But I believe that if you love someone long enough…that's it. You will love them forever. I believe Molly would have loved you forever, regardless of where life took each of you. It would have always been there, under the surface at least. But she could have been all alone in that love. I am a romantic, so I admit that there's something rather beautiful about a tragically enduring love like that. But this…this is so much more wonderful. You have each other, and the love that will endure a lifetime isn't just hers anymore. Now it's for both of you to share." She smiled. "I'm not sure what could be better."

Sherlock knew it was time to give the kind of answers that Rebecca needed to hear…the pretend kind. He lifted his lips in a pleasant smile at his sister in law. "I confess that I cannot think of anything better either. And there is no one else I could imagine sharing this lifetime with."

"Good," Rebecca said rather seriously. "You need each other, and I hope you never forget that." Her serious expression melted away as quickly as it came and she laughed a little. "I'm just impertinent enough to say all of this aloud!"

Sherlock laughed along with her, glad to lighten the heavy mood that had now settled on his shoulders. "Never confuse frankness with impertinence, Miss Hooper. It is quite obvious now that my Molly quite enjoys those who are not afraid to speak their minds."

He tried to relax in silence after that as Rebecca went to take a look over the balcony of their box. But the solitude and quiet lasted a precious few minutes before Molly and her mother returned again. It was definitely too soon. He needed more time to think; to sort through some of these…emotions.

Molly sat down with a little sigh beside him, and he thought she said something about the night sky and the cool air, but he wasn't sure.

"Hm?" Sherlock questioned, finally turning to her.

Molly smiled at him. "Forgive me, you were thinking. I didn't mean to disturb you." She briefly touched his hand but then placed both her petite little hands down in her lap.

Sherlock was speechless again. Apparently she knew he was thinking…and she understood. She did always understand, didn't she? Even when they were children, who else understood the things he cared about better than she did? But had he really understood her during all those years? In hindsight, perhaps he didn't. There was certainly one thing he'd missed, and it was a rather large thing. Molly Hooper loved him. She really truly loved him. The sort of love that had always sickened, or at the very least baffled him. The kind that lasted, that only grew stronger, and that completely consumed those who allowed themselves to be consumed by it. Those had always been idiotic ideals to him. Suddenly now, they were very real. Sherlock covertly glanced over at the woman beside him.

That sort of love had become real…because Molly made it real. Molly…his wife.

Sherlock looked away again and shut his eyes for a moment. How had he managed to make a woman like Molly Hooper fall in love with him? And not just fall in love, but stay in love for all these years? He was struck with a horrible sense of guilt and unworthiness. He knew very well that he didn't deserve this, and he also knew that she deserved far far more. And yet…he also felt gratitude. He was no fool, and he knew what it meant to have this kind of devotion bestowed on him by another human being. It was a gift, and for better or worse, it was his. For now, at least. He couldn't help but feel privileged in that moment.

The lights began to dim just a bit and Sherlock became aware of the sound of the orchestra continuing to tune and prepare for the third act. For him, there was now more in the air than musical notes, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself anymore. But apparently some part of his mind and body had an idea.

Sherlock reached over and took Molly's hand atop the satin fabric on her lap. He was only vaguely aware that she looked over at him, because his gaze stayed straight ahead. He threaded his fingers between hers and clasped their hands together tightly as his train of thought continued rolling along. He had just begun moving his thumb very slowly and methodically over her hand when her voice near his ear got his attention.

"Mr. Holmes, um…" She seemed to hesitate. "I don't believe my mother and sister are paying us any mind at the moment."

Sherlock paused, momentarily released from his thoughts as he glanced over and realized that Molly was right. Mrs. Hooper and Rebecca were chatting and looking over the program, and definitely not looking over at them. Sherlock looked at Molly briefly and then pressed his lips together as he faced forward again.

"Ah yes, quite right," he said quietly, with a little nod. "All the same…best to keep up appearances."

It was a bit far-fetched, he knew that very well. But she didn't question again, so he didn't bother with further explanation. She settled back in her seat and certainly didn't move her hand away from his grasp. Their fingers remained laced together, and halfway through the fourth act Sherlock had pulled her hand over closer to him and was moving his thumb to and fro again. He was well aware that this sort of contact in this particular moment wasn't absolutely necessary, but somehow he also didn't really care. He didn't care about any of that as he felt her fingers tighten around his hand and the orchestra's music wash over him. All he really cared about was the fact that it felt so very good; like a warm blanket encircling him, relaxing both his mind and body.

And heaven help him, he didn't want to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note, the case that Sherlock is working on in this chapter is taken from an actual ACD Sherlock Holmes story called "The Red Headed League." Must give credit to the Sherlock Holmes creator himself!


	8. Chapter 8

Molly smiled pleasantly at the men as she made her way past them after the lecture was through. Most of them were hanging back and chatting, but she needed to make her way outside to the courtyard since her mother and sister would be arriving to meet her soon. Besides, she still felt like a bit of an outsider among all these men. They were all polite enough, but they also never made much of an effort to make her feel especially welcome. The only ones who were notably pleasant and encouraging were Dr. Stamford and Mr. Anderson. A couple of the other professors she met were kind as well, but they still didn't speak to her and look at her quite the same as the male students.

She walked out to the fountain in the little courtyard and took a seat on the stone. She set her notebook and pen down beside her and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the bit of warm sunshine that shone down on her. The fingers on her right hand began absentmindedly twirling her gold wedding band and her eyes quickly opened again. Molly looked down, chewing at her lip as she stared at the still very shiny gold on her pale finger. It would likely remain in pristine condition for as long as she wore it, not being given nearly enough time to be dulled with time and wear. She let out a little sigh, her mind wandering back to the places that it had been frequenting lately.

It had been a few days since the opera, and the whole event still loomed large in her memory. It was a bit of a dream, if she were honest. Sherlock had been…well, nothing short of perfect. And that was a bit of a problem. Molly was quickly coming to realize that it was more taxing than she anticipated to sort through what was real and what wasn't. Especially when almost everything she herself was doing and saying couldn't be more real. But the way that Sherlock had treated her that night at the opera had been especially difficult to make sense of. Because it wasn't just what he said or did, it was the way he looked at her. And the end of the night, when he'd insisted on keeping hold of her hand…Molly was finding it difficult to refrain from reading into any of that.

He'd held her hand tightly, gently stroked it with his thumb, and had even brought it to his lips for a very quick kiss as the show came to an end and the audience broke out in applause. He did all this without really looking at her, and hadn't offered much explanation except that he was trying to maintain the consistent appearance of a happily married couple. As Molly rode back to Baker St that night and mentally reviewed the events, she could imagine that since this was Sherlock, it may genuinely be nothing more than that. Among his talents, he certainly was an accomplished actor. Perhaps he knew that stepping out of character, even briefly, could impact how believable his performance was overall. And since he was pretending, maybe he really couldn't afford to let anything sidetrack him in the moment.

Of course, once they'd arrived home after the opera, her doubts persistently crept back in. She'd never known Sherlock to be quite like he was that night while helping her undress. He seemed almost…embarrassed. And he certainly hadn't seemed at all troubled before while helping to free her from her corset. But that night, he hesitated when approaching her, his breathing sounded a bit unsteady as he worked behind her back, and she could feel his fingers fumble with the laces more than once; almost as if they were shaking. And when he'd finished, he didn't just let go and step away. It was incredibly brief, almost not noticeable, but she actually felt his hands slide down the garment before breaking contact. But by the time Molly turned around, Sherlock had turned as well. He was standing facing his bedroom window with hands perched on his hips. Molly had gone to bed after that and Sherlock left the room, mumbling about some sort of research, and no more words were exchanged between the two of them. She wasn't really sure when he had ended up coming to bed.

But she was very sure of his presence when she woke the next morning. Molly had opened her eyes and stretched a bit, but very quickly felt a strange weight on her and looked down. There, draped across her stomach, was Sherlock's arm. She was frozen, wondering what to do next. Sherlock was clearly still asleep based on his breathing pattern and stillness. He was on his stomach and facing away from her with that one arm right on top of her. She didn't want to wake him by moving, but she also didn't want to leave things as they were. After a few minutes of deliberation, Molly finally decided to just squirm out from under his arm and out of the bed. It was less likely that would wake him than actually grabbing and moving his arm. It didn't end terribly well. She lost her footing as she tried to slide off the mattress and actually ended up tumbling onto the floor. This of course did wake Sherlock, and earned her a groggy "what in the world are you doing?" To which she nervously laughed it off as her own clumsy early morning feet.

Molly shifted nervously in her seat on the edge of the fountain, experiencing the physical recollection of the weight of Sherlock's arm over her body. It was just one of many things that she'd never be able to forget. Years from now, decades even, she'd never be able to be rid of all these things. His touch, his lips, the look in his eyes, and the sound of his voice when he spoke to her as a man does to his wife. Those were all branded onto her heart, even if her marriage to the man himself was so very fleeting in the grand scheme of things.

God help her, she'd never be able to forget any of this.

"Molly, darling!" The sound of her mother's voice broke her from the hold of her thoughts.

"Hello!" Molly called out as she stood and met them. "How was your afternoon?"

"I bought some soaps and a darling pair of gloves!" Rebecca announced happily. "I even convinced Mother to buy herself a new hat!"

"I felt absolutely ridiculous," Mrs. Hooper said with a chuckle. "But I must admit it was a lovely bit of fun that I haven't had in quite some time. I hadn't gone shopping in London since I was your age!"

"I'm glad you had a lovely time. I did as well!" Molly said as the three of them walked together in the direction of the street. "The lecture on the new X-ray machines Bart's has now was just fascinating! I can't wait to tell Mr. Holmes all about it."

Rebecca laughed and shook her head. "The two of you are disgustingly well suited for each other!"

* * *

As soon as Molly walked in, she was greeted by the sight of Sherlock laid out on the couch with his eyes closed. She glanced back at her mother and sister who were removing their hats and mouthed, "he's thinking." They smiled and nodded and her mother said they'd go to the kitchen and start some tea.

Molly approached the couch quietly and spoke softly as she laid her hands on the arm rest. "Hello, darling. I just wanted to let you know I'm back. The lecture on X-ray machines was marvelous. I can tell you more later, perhaps after your case." She remembered that he was headed out this evening to hopefully close a case he'd been working on.

"Mm, later…excellent," Sherlock murmured without opening his eyes.

Molly smiled at him even though he couldn't see. "Well I'll let you have some peace and quiet."

She was about to turn and walk away, and for some reason, before she did, she very briefly let her hands come to rest on his head, her fingers very slightly nestling into the hair that already looked a little mussed by his own fingers. Her hands began to pull away from where they had just settled a second before, but then she jumped a bit at her husband's lightning reflexes as his arm shot up to gently grasp her wrist, preventing her from moving.

"Do continue, please, with your fingers in my hair," he said casually.

Molly froze in place, staring down at him wide eyed. He must have felt her hesitance because his eyes opened to look up at her and spoke again.

"It certainly paints the picture of an intimate moment between husband and wife," he said in a whisper. "Perhaps this is what you routinely do…when I'm thinking."

Molly swallowed hard, but finally nodded as she looked down at him. "Yes, I suppose. Um, good thinking." She smiled with an unavoidable accompanying blush as she gingerly replaced her hands atop his head and let her fingers sink into the dense curls.

Sherlock's eyes shut again instantly and he settled back comfortable with a very slight sigh. There was a moment of silence as Molly very hesitantly began moving her fingers in Sherlock's hair and along his scalp. He was right…this certainly did seem to be an intimate moment between a married couple! And she was almost ashamed to say that the longer the moment continued, the more she felt so happily at ease. She absolutely hated to make assumptions, but he really didn't seem to be uncomfortable either. Especially as he began murmuring his next words in a voice that was nothing short of serene.

"This is just the sort of thing your family should witness. It's perfectly logical that a man would be calmed and his thoughts would become better centered...under the gentle touch of his wife's hands."

"Makes sense," Molly breathed out as her fingers gently combed through his curls.

Now, she thought, if only she could make sense of what was truly going on within the mind that was literally beneath her fingertips...

* * *

About an hour later, Sherlock came down the hallway, pulling his jacket onto his shoulders as he walked. It seemed his awaited guests had arrived, and he was pleased to be able to begin the evening's work.

"Watson, Inspector Lestrade, do come in for a moment," Sherlock said as he opened the door for them and the men walked in.

"What's all this about now?" Lestrade questioned as he removed his hat. "Dr. Watson wasn't able to give me all the details, but apparently we're about to catch a wanted criminal?"

"I honestly don't understand everything myself. How often do I?" John mentioned with a little laugh.

"Inspector, you needn't have all the details right this instant. I can always explain it along the way," Sherlock answered with a little chuckle. He tapped on his temple. "Besides, as long as the details are here, our endeavor this evening will be sure to succeed!"

"How very reassuring," Lestrade muttered, mostly to himself.

Just as the men were readying themselves to leave, Molly and her mother and sister came up the stairs from having briefly visited Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock immediately placed a gently possessive hand on Molly's back once she was through the doorway.

"Inspector Lestrade, I don't believe you've yet been introduced to my wife. This is Molly Holmes, and Molly, the Inspector is often useful at the end of cases. Once I've done the majority of the work, he is excellent at making the arrest." Sherlock grinned at the poor man.

Lestrade shook his head as he extended his hand to take Molly's. "Your husband is far too complimentary, as usual. It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holmes. And may I say that I was just as glad as I was surprised when I heard the happy news. I wish you both joy."

"Why thank you, Inspector. And I'm pleased to meet you as well. It's lovely to meet all the wonderful people that Mr. Holmes works with day in and day out," Molly said, giving the man a brilliant smile.

Sherlock could clearly see that the Inspector was more than a little flustered in the presence of a pretty face and kind eyes. The poor fool hadn't yet moved on from the loss of his own wife some years before.

"Yes, and moving along," Sherlock said, feeling the inexplicable need to distract the Inspector. "This is Mrs. Holmes' mother, Mrs. Hooper."

There was a brief how-do-you-do and handshake between the two before Sherlock went on. "And this is Mrs. Holmes' sister, Miss Rebecca Hooper."

Though Lestrade had been noticeably flustered under Molly's gaze, the change in his demeanor was ten times that of before as he gently took Rebecca's delicate hand and stared at her wide eyed. It was obvious enough that Sherlock couldn't help a little glance at Molly, and he could see by her barely contained grin of amusement that she was observing the very same thing that he was.

"Goodness, how lovely to meet…all of you," Lestrade said awkwardly as he smiled at only one of the three women he had just met.

"It's certainly our pleasure, Inspector Lestrade," Rebecca said sweetly, her cheeks just a bit pink. "How thrilling to meet one of the brave men who work to keep this beautiful city safe for all its inhabitants."

Lestrade looked ready to fall straight backward as he finally let go of her hand. "Well, that is kind of you to say, Miss Rebecca. I'm terribly flattered that you'd-"

"Right, perhaps there is an alternate time for all of these pleasantries?" Sherlock finally cut in with a note of impatience. "Surely you gentlemen understand that time is of the essence!"

"Yes, forgive us for daring to chat while on a case!" John said sarcastically and smiled at the ladies as he made for the door again.

Sherlock ignored John's snide comment and instead leaned toward Molly and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Be back later, darling."

"You be careful," Molly said seriously, and briefly smoothed the lapels of his jacket.

Sherlock nodded as he donned his hat and then led the three of them out the door. It was becoming awfully natural and…comfortable to be bidding her farewell upon leaving the flat and greeting her cheerfully when returning home. He frowned to himself. Blasted human nature, tugging him toward all that is domestic. Not that he denied himself any comforts in life. If this was to be a temporary creature comfort along with being a means to an end, well he supposed there were worse things. Surely if he were to ask Watson, his friend would insist that this was infinitely preferable to cocaine and morphine.

And if he was careful, she wouldn't be as addictive…surely not.

* * *

Molly had to stifle a giggle when Sherlock came back to the flat practically skipping. "I surmise that things went rather well?"

"Splendidly, yes!" Sherlock bounded quickly over to where she stood in the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek rather forcefully.

"Oh, um…my mother and sister are upstairs," she said with an embarrassed blush.

"Ah, I see." But Sherlock didn't seem much phased. "It seems you've just made tea. Excellent timing! I can tell you all about the capture and arrest of the notorious John Clay!"

"I'm glad to hear all about it," Molly said with a grin as she pushed a freshly poured cup of tea toward him. Just then, she noticed that he'd set a parcel on the table. "Oh, what do you have there?"

"Ah yes." Sherlock turned it to face her. "It's addressed to you, from Bart's hospital. I would say they've remembered another important textbook, but the way it carries is not indicative of a book." He took a sip of his tea but then set it down quickly and took a step back. "I'll just go and replace my jacket with my dressing gown, and then we can settle by the fire and I'll tell you the whole _brilliant_ tale!"

"Sounds lovely," Molly said genuinely. Really, she couldn't be happier. Wasn't this what she always dreamed of? As Sherlock took long strides down the hall to their bedroom, Molly got a kitchen knife and began opening the parcel. This was an unexpected surprise! But the moment that she'd pulled back the sides of the box and looked inside, she clasped a hand over her mouth and thanked God that she'd decided to open this while Sherlock was out of the room.

Sitting in the paper covered box…was a severed human hand.

After a moment of paralyzing shock, Molly noticed that there was a folded note beside the hand. She reached in with slightly shaky fingers to gingerly retrieve and unfold the piece of paper. It read-

_The work force is a dangerous place for a female. Stay home…and perhaps you'll stay safe._

Molly looked down at the hand with a whole new level of horror, because she also now realized that it was most certainly a woman's hand; small, delicate, and rather young in appearance. But it was also at that moment that she heard Sherlock's footsteps again and knew he'd be marching back into the kitchen.

She quickly shoved the note in her pocket as he was reappearing in the doorway and also forced a happy smile on her lips. Thankfully, Sherlock Holmes wasn't the only one who could come up with a plan in only a few seconds. "Um, Mr. Holmes, I know this was addressed to me, but the truth is that it's really more…for you." She slid the box across the table toward him with a proud smile.

When Sherlock looked into the box with his interest already piqued, he instantly looked back at her with wide and excited eyes. "You managed to secure this?"

Molly shrugged. "I'm getting on rather well with everyone in the morgue already. Mr. Anderson in particular seems to worship the ground I walk on since I'm married to you," she said with a laugh. What she said wasn't exactly a lie, though she knew the whole thing was a rather huge deception. She hurried to add, "I beg you not to mention this to anyone though. I fear that any influence I have would be ruined in the future if we were not especially discreet. I'm sure you understand all too well!"

"Naturally," Sherlock agreed while still marveling at the generous gift. "And what excellent timing you have! Here I have just solved a case, and yet I needn't worry that boredom will set in tomorrow. Plenty for us to do!" he said happily.

Molly's brows rose. "Us?"

"I do, of course, prefer to have an assistant, even in the case of experiments." He gave her a little half smile and spoke in a tone that almost brought tears to her eyes. "As I recall, there is no finer assistant than you, when it came to such things."

Molly looked down shyly for a moment, but brought her gaze back up to his with smiling eyes. "It has been a long time. I'm…glad you remember those childhood occasions."

Sherlock shrugged and gave her a casual explanation while looking back at the hand. "I don't delete things of useful importance."

Molly twisted her lips to keep from grinning too widely. She supposed she had accomplished two things. She'd concealed what seemed to be a very personal threat to her safety that had come from someone within Bart's, and she'd also succeeded in bringing her and Sherlock just a touch closer. She tried to focus on the later of course. It was more than a little disturbing that this threat was not going away as she'd hoped it would. She resolved to be cautious and especially watchful from here on.

For the next hour, they sat by the warm fire as Sherlock animatedly told the tale of his newly solved case which centered around the strange and mysterious Red Headed League. Molly couldn't stop smiling and occasionally giggling at the entertaining description Sherlock offered. As she watched his hands gesturing wildly and expressions practically telling the story without the need of words, she couldn't help but think that he was truly enjoying this. It wasn't enough for him to go about solving these cases. He wanted…no, needed to share the experience with someone. Perhaps some would consider it narcissistic, and perhaps even Sherlock himself would claim that's all it was…but Molly knew better. He needed to share what he cared about, what made his heart beat faster, and what made him want to get up and do it all again every day. He just needed to share the source of his happiness. Just like anyone else, it only made the experience that much grander for him.

Another hour after that, both Sherlock and Molly were settled in bed. Molly was quietly reading a book, and Sherlock was peacefully enjoying organizing details of the case within his mind palace. A bit of fatigue had started to set in for Molly, and she was just about ready to turn the lamp off and set her book aside as she felt her eyelids drooping slightly. She was rather startled back into being alert though, by her husband's next words.

"Things are going a bit too smoothly, aren't they?" Sherlock commented, his eyes still closed. He said it almost as if they'd already been in the midst of a conversation.

Molly frowned and set her book in her lap as she looked over at him. "Pardon? D-did you say _too_ smoothly?"

"Mm," Sherlock confirmed, dropping his hands to rest on his chest and turning his head to look at her. Noting her confused look, his lips twitched up in amusement. "Oh, come now, you couldn't have imagined that we could give the show of a normal marriage without the presence of some sort of occasional conflict!"

Molly pursed her lips as she considered this. "Um, what sort of conflict?"

"Ah, just the usual sort," he said, as if he were the expert on all sorts of marital discord. "A small argument here and there, hurt feelings, words spoken without thought, perhaps some tears, and of course an especially heartfelt reconciliation when all is said and done."

Molly still couldn't help the look of concern on her face. "And if you think it so necessary for us to put on this manner of show, what exactly would you recommend we argue about?"

Sherlock began settling back against his pillow. "Well I would prefer to leave the subject matter to you. In the interest of coming across as natural, I think it best that you chose the subject and timing for the incident. Think of something…" He gestured in the air. "That would naturally move you to anger if we were married."

"Mm, we are married," Molly stated flatly, still not terribly pleased with this idea.

"Indeed we are," Sherlock said with a grin. "You know me well enough to be able to come up with all sorts of lovely little traits of mine to pick on, which is why I feel this project is best left in your capable hands!" He rolled over and turned off the lamp by his side of the bed. "Goodnight, Miss Hooper!"

"Yes, goodnight, Mr. Holmes," she muttered glumly. This certainly put a damper on how happy she'd been feeling. Now she had to play at being the angry wife!

She sighed to herself as she thought about the fact that it was up to her to concoct the subject matter. True, Sherlock had all sorts of traits that could grate on one's nerves, but that wasn't the case with her for the most part. She put up with him rather well. It would seem rather out of place if she suddenly snapped at him over something that wasn't normally bothersome.

That was when her eyes happened to fall on his little spot atop the dresser. There sat his leather gloves and keys…and his pocket watch.

Molly narrowed her eyes for a moment as she stared at the item, and then the corner of her lips lifted in a slight smile. She finally shifted down on her pillow and settled in for a good night's rest, content that she'd come up with a more than reasonable and believable plan. In fact, with this new found idea, she was almost looking forward to the whole thing. She felt that it might serve to answer some questions that she'd long had.

As she drifted off to sleep and went over the things she planned to say, Molly wasn't even entirely sure that acting would be a necessity.


	9. Chapter 9

A couple of days later, Molly and her family were relaxing at Baker St while Sherlock made the rounds in the nearby streets, gathering the latest news and tips from his group of irregulars. Molly nervously tapped her foot as she tried to concentrate on reading a book. It wasn't easy though. She kept replaying how she would manage this…interchange she had planned for when Sherlock returned.

"When do you think we'll be seeing that dashing Inspector again, Molly?" Rebecca suddenly asked.

Molly smirked at her younger sister. "I can't say for sure. Sometimes he comes to Mr. Holmes for help, and on rare occasions Mr. Holmes goes to him."

"Darling, wasn't he wearing a wedding ring?" Mrs. Hooper asked in a hushed voice, despite the fact that nobody else was around.

"It's not exactly as it seems, Mother," Molly said with an understanding smile. "He was married, but his wife died a few years ago. I asked Sherlock myself, just to be sure."

"Oh, the poor dear man!" Rebecca said wistfully, perching her chin on her fist as she stared out the window.

"Consider carefully, child," Mrs. Hooper advised, shaking her head as she tugged away at her embroidery thread. "I fear he is not the most suitable of men. He is a widower, has little to make your life more comfortable, and has a rather unseemly profession."

"Mother, when choosing your words, consider please that in some ways he is not unlike _my husband,_ " Molly retorted quickly. It was a bit of an indirect insult to Sherlock if Inspector Lestrade didn't seem fit for her sister.

Mrs. Hooper set her project on her lap and looked sternly at Molly. "My dear, just because you are married and the matter is settled does not mean that I have no say in how your sister proceeds to make a match for herself. I want the best in life for _both_ my children. I have the same standards for Rebecca that I had for you. The fact that you set your own very unique standards in life does not change what I want for her."

"Don't you want her to be happy?" Molly pressed, knowing very well that she was being a bit impertinent.

Her mother gave her a warning expression. "You know very well that I want what I believe will make my daughters happy in the long run. And it is rather unfair for you to insinuate that I don't care about both your happiness."

Molly pressed her lips together tightly and opted to pick up her book again. In reality, she knew her mother's fears were well founded. Her happiness was indeed at risk. She was gambling with it every day right now. It may pay off in the end, but it was still quite possible the payoff could include a large portion of pain. Best not to argue about her sister, when she herself didn't have a leg to stand on in all honesty.

"Let's not quarrel about it," Rebecca said with a roll of her eyes. "I simply thought he was handsome! It isn't as if I've received a proposal!"

"Indeed," Mrs. Hooper agreed, and they all went back to silent thought and activity.

Molly pretended to focus on her book for a while longer as she continued going over some of the methods she planned to employ once Sherlock returned home. She didn't have very long to plan though, because it was only about twenty minutes later that he came sweeping through the door.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Sherlock announced pleasantly. Then he glanced over at Molly and grinned. "Hello, my darling…you are always a lovely sight to return home to." He leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek, but she turned her head just enough to thwart the move.

Molly looked up and saw the slight confusion written on his face, but before he had the chance to say anything, she got up from her seat and left the room to head down the hall to their bedroom. As she hoped, Sherlock followed after her, ready to inquire about what was wrong. And the stage was set…

"Molly?" Sherlock began as he entered their room, walking toward where she stood with arms crossed over her middle. "Is something the matter?"

Molly turned and looked at him, giving him a little meaningful wink and then pointing down the hallway toward her family. In true Sherlock form, he caught her meaning right away and his eyes widened in understanding of what she was doing.

Sherlock gave her a nod of readiness and the cleared his throat. "Darling, come now, just tell me what's wrong. Contrary to popular belief, I am in fact not a mind reader."

Molly drew a deep breath and dove in. "I suppose this is partly my fault. I…I shouldn't have gone this long without confronting you. I've just let it bother me and bother me and I should have just spoken up many weeks ago."

Sherlock watched her with narrowed eyes, clearly interested in where she was headed with this.

She shut her eyes for a second before opening them and spitting it out. "Your pocket watch."

Sherlock frowned. "My pocket watch has been bothering you?" His question was tinged with some amusement.

Molly held his gaze, her expression unwavering and determined. "I am referring, more specifically, to what is _inside_ your pocket watch."

Sherlock's mouth hung open a bit as he processed exactly what she was bringing up. He finally swallowed thickly and managed a reply. "The…picture inside my watch, I assume you mean," he said, almost too quietly to be heard down the hall.

"Precisely," Molly said with a nod. "I can't help but feel a bit uncomfortable with the fact that you keep a photograph of another woman on your person at all times. That is Miss Irene Adler, is it not?"

Something hardened in Sherlock's eyes as he placed his hands in his pockets and spoke while pacing a bit. "Yes, that is Miss Adler. But she is long gone to America many years ago. And I assure you that the picture I keep is in memory of a case and nothing more," he answered quickly.

"Oh yes, I recall that particular case very well," Molly answered with a bit of bite. "It stood out in my mind ever since you sent me the article Dr. Watson wrote about it. She was quite a favorite of yours, wasn't she? The Woman?"

Sherlock huffed out a little laugh. "You are making this into something it is not."

"Am I?" Molly asked. "I fail to see how this could be misinterpreted. Do you keep photographs of all your clients?"

"She was a fascinating woman with an impressive mind. She outsmarted me, in fact! It is not often that I can say that of my clients. So naturally, I thought it worth recalling from time to time!"

Molly paused for a moment. "But you also found her to be attractive?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She was…" He gestured in the air as he searched for the desired wording. "Generally considered to be an attractive woman, yes. See here, if you are so very uncomfortable with the idea that I keep that picture, well then I will take it out of my watch. Is that what you're hoping for?"

"What I care about far more is honesty, Sherlock!" Molly responded, a bit more passionately. "The fact that you cannot even admit that she meant something to you gives me reason to believe you have something to hide. I never want to feel that way with you! We are husband and wife, and if nothing else, we should be able to trust each other!"

It was evident from the shift in Sherlock's expression that he was going to start putting on more of an act. His eyes softened and he smiled lovingly. "Darling, of course you can trust me. I love you desperately, and there is no reason for you to ever doubt that. Come and kiss me and let's be done with this."

Molly took a step back though, making Sherlock frown upon realizing that she wasn't ready to close the topic. "I can't understand why you refuse to truly tell me what I'd like to know. Perhaps I can trust you, but you're making me feel as if you don't trust me with what is deep inside your mind and heart! Why are you so hesitant to share that part of your past with me? I would understand, truly!"

Sherlock clenched his jaw as he stared at her with steely eyes. He glanced back toward the door where he knew the sound was carrying down the hall to where Molly's family was, and then back at Molly before opening his mouth again.

"All right," he said bitterly. "If you're so eager to hear the truth, then here it is. Yes, she was a magnificent creature, both in body and mind. I had never met her equal before then, and possibly never will! And yes, I was taken with her in an intellectual and physical way! She stirred feelings in me that I'd worked very hard to avoid up till then, and after she was gone there was a weakened part of me that wanted to remember that…to remember all of it." He threw his hands up in defeat. "And so I kept her picture!"

Molly looked on a bit sheepishly as Sherlock dug into his pocket and took out his watch. He opened it and tugged the little photograph out of the inside and slapped it down on the top of his dresser.

"If you'll excuse me, now that I've removed the offending item from my possession, I'm going out."

"Where are you going? You only just returned," Molly asked, concern lacing her words. She hadn't wanted to genuinely upset him, but if she wasn't mistaken, it seemed that was exactly what she succeeded in doing.

"I fancy another walk," he said simply while exiting the bedroom.

Molly followed him down the hall, but once he was in the sitting room, he did nothing but collect his hat and coat and hurry through the door. She didn't have time to say another word to him before he was gone. She let out a sigh and glanced over at her mother and sister who were trying awfully hard to look engrossed in their stitching.

"It's all right…I realize you must have heard all of that," Molly said, taking a seat next to her sister on the sofa.

Her mother smiled softly. "Darling, there will always be difficult times. There's no shame in that. It is how you weather them that will determine the success of your marriage. And it really doesn't much matter who is right and who is wrong. It is about who makes peace…that's what counts." She reached over and patted Molly's hand.

"You are right though, Molly," Rebecca chimed in. "Heaven forbid if my husband ever dared to keep a photograph of another woman!"

"Rebecca," Mrs. Hooper scolded. "That is hardly helpful at the moment."

"Not to worry, we'll surely sort it out," Molly said with a weak smile. "I'll talk to him when he comes home."

"That's the spirit, my dear," Mrs. Hooper said with a cheerful smile. She then turned and looked at her younger daughter pointedly. "You see, no matter how dashing your husband is, there are sure to be troubles in any marriage, and that is reality."

Rebecca gave Molly a little wink and smile. "But surely the dashing ones are easier to forgive."

* * *

Molly eyes flew open in the dark bedroom when she heard footsteps in the kitchen. She hadn't been actually sleeping, but since it was gone eleven she decided to make an effort to relax and get some rest. She was glad Sherlock had finally come home, because her plan for rest was failing fast.

Molly got up and pulled a dressing gown on before heading into the kitchen. She first caught sight of Sherlock's back as he was busily lighting a lamp at the table. When he turned around at the sound of her presence, she let out a little gasp.

"Mr. Holmes, what ever happened to you?!" Molly asked in a hushed but horrified voice. His lip was split and bleeding a bit and he had a slightly swollen and bruised eye.

"It's nothing," Sherlock said dismissively and took out a kit from the cupboard. "I've been boxing, that is all."

"It is not nothing! Forgive me, but you look positively awful," Molly said as she picked up the lamp and held it so as to get a better view of his face.

Sherlock began opening the box he'd retrieved and taking out some supplies. "You are more than welcome to go back to bed. I can see to this," he said flatly. "And I hardly need an audience."

"Don't be ridiculous," Molly said with a little laugh. "You can't possibly see what you're doing! Why don't you let me get you cleaned up?"

Sherlock looked a little weary and obviously didn't feel like putting up a fight. Perhaps he'd already had his fill for the day. "Fine...just get it done." He plopped himself down in one of the kitchen chairs.

Molly filled a basin of water and then took a seat next to him. She knew this was the time to talk, although she was stumped as to how it should begin. How had she managed to turn their pretend argument into something she truly needed to say sorry for?

"You're awfully bashed up," Molly said, opting to first address his physical state as she wrung out a sopping rag. "I do hope this is not how you end up every time you box. Heavens knows how long you'll have the use of your brilliant mind!"

"I never end up like this," Sherlock spat back, but instantly looked like he felt sorry for his tone. He cleared his throat again as she gently pressed the cloth to his lip. "I made a number of…miscalculations this time."

"I see," Molly said softly as she dabbed away the blood. "Well, it seems you'll be able to avoid any stitches. That's fortunate since I'm not entirely sure you would trust me to wield a needle at the moment." She gave him a little smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Sherlock made eye contact and she thought she caught the slightest smile, but he didn't take the bait and begin talking about the argument earlier. She realized that she'd have to be the one to bravely make the leap.

"Mr. Holmes, I um, I feel the need to apologize for my choice of subject matter earlier." Molly couldn't quite keep eye contact, so she focused on wringing out another rag. "It seems that you were not exactly expecting me to bring up…that."

Sherlock shrugged. "You've no need to apologize. It was unexpected, yes. But the truth is that your choice of topic was rather brilliant. Perhaps I should not have underestimated your commitment to being convincing."

Molly still felt guilty. She knew very well that her choice of topic wasn't all about being convincing. She had desperately wanted to know the truth about this woman who seems to hold such a lofty place in the mind of this man who, at least for now, was her husband.

"Yes well, I'm not sure I should have gone into such a…" Molly inhaled and released a deep breath. "Such a personal topic of yours."

They made eye contact and Molly could tell that Sherlock was about ready to deny the issue and act as if it were nothing.

"No, I mean it," Molly went on before he could cut in. "It really is none of my business and I'm sorry for bringing it all to the surface. Whatever you had or…have…with Miss Adler is simply not my concern."

She was a bit relieved when she saw Sherlock's lips lift in a slight smirk. "But you were curious," he murmured.

Molly pressed her lips together, trying to hide her own smile. "Well, I suppose the whole thing did intrigue me. It honestly did stand out from the other cases I'd read of you solving. And, well, I did wonder what you were doing here in London all those years. And I don't simply mean what cases you were solving."

Sherlock nodded and leaned back in his chair as Molly had finished up with his lip. He exhaled as he massaged his aching knuckles. And then he looked at her again, surprising her by opening his mouth again.

"Irene Adler was indeed a remarkable woman. I meant what I said to you earlier. She challenged me mentally and even emotionally. I believe that in many ways she was my equal, and I held her in high esteem because of that." He paused again, looking down for a moment before continuing as he looked at Molly pointedly. "But that does not mean I wanted to share a life with her."

"Oh," Molly breathed out as she set the rags aside and wiped her hands on her dressing gown.

"One of the reasons I found her to be so intriguing was the fact that she tricked me," Sherlock said, leaning forward and speaking with careful clarity. "I was impressed by her intelligence and her cunning and her wit." He paused for what seemed like emphasis. "The shining absence of certain things also came to my attention: kindness, compassion, and honesty. Those are qualities that I found lacking, especially in hindsight…and especially when compared to other people I know."

Molly's eyes were locked onto his and she couldn't look away even if she wanted to…but she didn't. She didn't really plan to, but she spoke the words aloud, completing his thought.

"You couldn't trust her," she whispered.

Sherlock nodded slowly. "No, I could not. No matter the thrill that was wrapped up in who she was, there was no safety, no security. My life has its fill of excitement without the addition of hers." He smiled, making his eyes glint like silvery stars in the dim kitchen.

Molly licked her lips and then smiled back at him. "Well, as you said, she was remarkable and certainly worth remembering. It's lovely to have those people in your life that…count so very much, even many years later." She smiled again, unsure of what else to say, and then she got up to put the little kit back in the cupboard. She made her way to the doorway and was about to bid him goodnight when his voice cut through the darkness, making her turn again.

" _You,_ Miss Hooper…you count. You always have." He turned, looking at her from where he still sat at the table. "And what's more, I've always trusted you. I would trust you with my very life, and there is a precious few who I can say that of."

Molly was held captive once again by his stare. "I am…glad to be among them," she said softly. "I would always be there for you, of course…whatever you need."

Sherlock stared back at her rather thoughtfully, and then finally nodded before turning away again. "We are friends, you and I. I suppose one never knows what they will need from a friend."

Molly cracked a smile. "Perhaps an arm or an internal organ."

Sherlock hesitated, seeming like he might be about to say something else. But his reply came as a simple word. "Perhaps." He returned her smile as he stood from his seat with some obvious aches along the way. "Now, I believe my body demands rest, regardless of my mind's preference to remain alert."

"Why, Mr. Holmes, are you beginning to feel the effects of age?" Molly asked, her tone teasing and playful as he followed her down the hall and into their bedroom.

"Certainly not!" he huffed. "Though, even if I was, I have the benefit of appearing forever youthful next to Watson and that God awful mustache!"

Molly burst out in a laugh but then quickly covered her mouth as Sherlock shut the bedroom door, not wanting to wake her family upstairs. Heaven forbid if they were to hear anything and think…Molly blushed even at the thought.

"Oh and speaking of Watson," Sherlock said as he shrugged off his jacket. "I saw him on my walk earlier and he asked me to give you this. I believe it's from Mrs. Watson." He handed her the small envelope from inside his pocket.

Molly eagerly opened it and read the brief note it contained. "Oh how lovely! Mrs. Watson would like to have my mother and sister and I for tea the day after next. That'll be a wonderful little outing, and I have been wanting to see how she is holding up. Must be getting dreadfully uncomfortable by now," Molly said with a little grimace.

"There is little about procreation that is not messy and uncomfortable to some degree," Sherlock stated flatly.

"Of that, I am very well aware," Molly replied with a laugh as she turned and began undoing the buttons of her blouse and eventually set it aside along with her corset cover. Sherlock came over behind her without being asked, as had become the routine of late, and began tugging at the laces of her corset.

Molly drew in a released a long breath. "I would very much welcome a bit of time with Mrs. Watson, just for the opportunity to talk…" She spoke the words a bit wistfully, suddenly realizing how desperately she wanted a wise and understanding friend to confide in.

"Ah yes, your activities at the hospital," Sherlock stated confidently, as if he was the ultimate expert on what his wife and her friend would prefer to chat about. "There would be little else, I imagine."

Suddenly, Molly felt Sherlock run his fingers over a small area of skin just below her shoulder blade. She sucked in a breath at the unexpected skin on skin contact.

"The upper edge of this corset seems to be digging in right here on your back," Sherlock commented as he continued touching that particular spot. "I'd very strongly suggest wearing only tea gowns whenever you are in the flat. Reducing the time you spend in this unnecessary contraption can do nothing but good. Especially silly to be so uncomfortable restrained considering your natural size and shape!" He spoke the disapproving words and partially veiled compliment as he finally stepped away and continued the task of readying himself for bed.

Molly released the breath she'd been holding in and then had to hold in a laugh as she muttered to herself, "Oh yes…I can't think what other topics I'd find to discuss with Mary Watson…"


	10. Chapter 10

Molly pushed her dresses aside one by one in the wardrobe and huffed in annoyance and confusion.

"Surely Mrs. Watson will not be terribly critical of your fashion sense at tea this afternoon," Sherlock commented as he walked in the bedroom and observed her.

"It's not that," Molly said, finally grabbing a gown and shutting the wardrobe door. "It's so strange, but I can't seem to find my green gown. You remember, the one with the yellow sash?" She began dressing as she spoke since she'd already lost a good bit of time in her hunt for the missing garment.

"Ah yes, I recall." Sherlock stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Come to think of it, I came home last week while you three were out at some shops and I was convinced that someone had been in the flat." He shrugged. "Most likely one of my irregulars. I've often given them the freedom to come and go as they please. I'll soon inquire as to whether they know anything of your dress. Perhaps it was being borrowed temporarily."

Molly frowned. "Borrowed?" she questioned. "Mr. Holmes, I hardly think that is appropriate. At least, not when I haven't been first consulted! Perhaps such an arrangement was acceptable when you were living alone, but as things stand I would appreciate a bit more respect for our private living space."

"Ah, I see," Sherlock said, clearly realizing that he'd failed to think of her feelings on this matter.

"Just ask me first, that's all I want," Molly said, with an added smile to indicate that she wasn't planning on arguing further.

Sherlock agreed and then helped with the buttons at the back of her neck as Molly put a couple more pins in her hair and then secured her hat. She then hurried to exit the bedroom and be on her way.

"We should be back well before supper time," she said as they both made their way down the hall and out to the sitting room.

"I will somehow attempt to content myself with the silence!" Sherlock said with a little smirk at the three women.

Molly shook her head and smiled to herself while she and her mother and sister pulled their gloves on and prepared to leave. "Good afternoon, darling," Molly said sweetly and couldn't resist strolling over and planting a somewhat playful kiss on his cheek. She was pleased to see the involuntary pink that shaded his cheekbones as she pulled away and whispered, "I shall miss you as well."

Mrs. Hudson giggled merrily from where she was preparing some tea in the kitchen. "Oh, it does my heart good to see some romance in this flat!"

As the three women left the flat, they laughed as they heard Sherlock's annoyed response.

"Mrs. Hudson, haven't you anywhere else you need to be at the moment?!"

* * *

Molly had gladly offered to join Mary in the kitchen in order to help her ready some more tea for the four of them. She was itching to be able to chat freely with Mary, without the presence of the mother and sister.

Mary shook her head as she filled the kettle and listened to Molly talk. "I honestly cannot imagine how you stay sane, Molly. Forgive me for speaking frankly, but the man is literally undressing you and then you're sharing a bed every night! And never once…I cannot imagine!"

Molly couldn't help but laugh. She tried weakly to defend the strange scenario. "Well it simply is not part of the arrangement. Which, to be fair, I willingly agreed to!"

"And can you count the number of times you've questioned the wisdom of that arrangement now that you are living it?" Mary asked with an expression that clearly said she already knew the answer.

Molly sighed heavily. "I know it seems strange to say but, well, I'm happy that I have…something with him. I honestly can't say if he is truly capable of a genuine romantic love." She shrugged. "So, perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is the most that I can ever expect from Sherlock Holmes. We are friends and he cares for me, at least enough to want to help me. I'm grateful for that, even if there are other things that…" Molly's voice trailed off and she chewed her lip as a blush spread on her cheeks.

"Things that you wish you could share with him," Mary said, kindly finishing her friend's thought. She paused and smiled before going on. "Yes, I admit it seems a bit odd to me. But I do understand your meaning. You want to enjoy what you have instead on focusing on what is missing between the two of you."

"Yes, exactly," Molly said more cheerily.

There was a moment of silence as Mary retrieved the kettle and poured the hot water into the pot. As the steam began to rise and Mary set the pot on the tray, she smiled slyly at Molly.

"And of course, along with enjoying what you do have, there is always the hope that someday…" She looked at Molly with suggestive raised brows and laughing eyes.

Molly shook her head and sighed as she gathered up the plate of biscuits to carry back to the sitting room. "As I said, I question whether he is even capable of more than what has ever been between us. I try not to read into things and let myself hope."

As the two women returned to the sitting room, Mary managed to whisper one last thing. "Ah ha! Reading between the lines would tell me that means there are times when he gives you reason to hope!" She winked at Molly and then walked away before giving her time to make an answer.

A few minutes later, as the four women enjoyed their tea and biscuits, the topic fell on Mary's impending delivery.

"Somewhere in the next two to four weeks, surely," Mary said with an accompanying pat on her large stomach. "I seem to double in size every morning right now, so I can't possibly go on like this forever!"

"No, indeed, I'm sure it will be soon," Molly agreed. "And please promise to have Dr. Watson send for me when the time comes. It would be my pleasure to help you in every way I can."

Mary laughed as she began speaking again. "Believe me, my dear, your husband has already insisted upon it! Dr. Watson was forced to hear all about how competent you are at midwifery and that it would be a terrible oversight on our part if I did not call upon your expertise!"

"Yes, that sounds like my brother in law," Rebecca said as she nudged Molly playfully. "He can barely go an hour without proclaiming Molly's exceptional abilities in some area or another!"

Molly blushed and tried to hide her pleased smile with a sip of her tea. But when she looked back up, there was no missing Mary's pointed little "I told you" glance.

* * *

Molly's attention faltered a tiny bit as the lecture was coming to a close. She reached her hand up and brushed her fingers along her right temple. Is still tingled pleasantly, she could swear it did, even though she knew that was impossible. But that didn't make it seem any less real. It wasn't all in her mind, she thought happily as her fingertips moved along the skin…just the spot where Sherlock had pressed his lips a couple of hours before...

She jumped as the professor's voice boomed a little louder while making his closing statement about how much more in depth they'd be covering this topic once the regular classes began.

Molly stood a minute later and began gathering up her notebook and pen and papers in preparation to leave. She was pleasantly surprised when one of the other students approached with a kind smile.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Holmes," the young man said with a little nod.

"Yes, good afternoon, Mr. Thompson," Molly replied, glad that she recalled his name since they'd never really conversed much before.

"I was told to inform you that Mr. Anderson would like to speak to you. He said you could meet him downstairs in the morgue after this lecture had concluded."

"Oh, I see." Molly frowned, surprised at the unexpected request. "Well thank you for relaying the message. I'll be sure to stop downstairs before heading home."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Holmes. And a good day to you!" The man gave her another smile before turning and leaving the lecture hall.

Molly picked up her things and walked happily out into the corridor and then to the stairwell. She went down the two floors till she was in the basement and then walked the long hallways till she came to the area where the morgue was. She passed a couple of orderlies, but for the most part it was awfully quiet today. In fact, she glanced around for a moment as she was about to open the door to the morgue, hoping to see someone else about. There was something a little uncomfortable about being so secluded all the way down here. Usually she was with a small group.

Molly pushed the heavy door open and immediately announced her presence. "Hello! Mr. Anderson, are you in here?" She was greeted by nothing but silence as she stepped fully inside and let the door swing shut behind her.

It was mostly very dark in the large and chilly room…except for one lamp in the middle of the room. It created what almost seemed like a beacon of light upon just one of the exam tables. And when Molly's eyes were drawn to it, she realized something that stood out. All the other tables which held their silent and still occupants looked the same. There was the simple shape of a human form shrouded in the same white cloth atop the flat surface. This one table in the center though, its occupant looked different. It held a dead woman, to be sure…but she was fully clothed.

Molly glanced around her once again, wondering if this was perhaps what Mr. Anderson had asked for her to meet with him about. Perhaps he needed some sort of assistance. She could only assume this woman had just been brought in. She wondered if this was something to do with a case and they'd be calling Sherlock in as well. The possibility distracted her a bit from the unusual circumstances and she began crossing the room, advancing closer to the illuminated table.

But as Molly got to just a few paces away from the dead woman, she stopped short and felt a disturbing sort of chill run up her back. The dress she wore which cascaded a bit over the table's edge…green…and a yellow sash.

Pushed forward then, mostly by morbid curiosity, Molly stepped closer still to the table as she listened to the pounding of her heartbeat in her own ears. She finally stopped where she could clearly look upon this young woman who was wearing the exact same dress she owned. This young, petite, brunette haired woman with sweet and kind features…Molly tore her eyes from the woman's face as she also noticed that there was a folded sheet of paper lying on her abdomen.

She reached over hesitantly and retrieved the paper, but as she did, her eyes fell on one specific part of the yellow sash. There on the edge of the fabric was a darker discoloration; a grease stain that she instantly recognized. As Molly was already beginning to feel a sickening realization flood through her, she unfolded the paper she held and looked down at the words in blood-like ink…

_RIP DR. HOOPER_

Molly wanted to scream. She opened her mouth as if a sound would come out, but nothing came. She simply stood there looking back and forth at the body of this woman and the words on the page in her hand, her feet seemingly cemented to the stone floor. She wanted to move as much as she wanted to scream, but the shock and horror had rendered her body useless for what seemed to be an eternity.

But the moment ended rather quickly in all reality, and Molly finally ripped her feet free and tripped her way back the way she had come. She would have burst through the morgue doors and run all the way till she was out on the street…but she collided in the doorway with Mr. unfortunately for him, that was when Molly's strangled scream finally broke free.

"What?! What is it?! What has happened, Mrs. Holmes?!" Anderson asked, wearing his own look of horror as he held her by the shoulders.

Molly looked into his eyes in silence for a brief moment, and she very slowly felt her fear begin to melt away. It took her less than thirty seconds to determine with a certainly that Philip Anderson had nothing to do with what she had just come upon. She let out a small sigh and then shoved the paper she still held at his chest, which he took from her.

"That woman," Molly gasped out as she pointed toward the center of the room. "She is wearing _my dress."_

Anderson frowned in confusion for a moment, but when he looked at the words on the page she'd handed him, he gasped. He then rushed over to have a look at the dead woman for himself as Molly braced herself on the doorway and prayed that her heart stop racing like a locomotive.

Anderson came hurrying back over and looked at her with concern. "Do you have any idea as to who could have done this?"

Molly shook her head. "All I know is that I was told by another student to come and meet you here."

Anderson looked thoughtful for a moment before placing a steadying arm around her shoulder and guiding her through the door. "Come, I will personally escort you home to Baker Street."

As they rounded the corner in the hallway, Mr. Anderson waved down two orderlies. "You there! I want you to go stand guard at the door to the morgue. Absolutely nobody is to go in besides the authorities! It is now the scene of a crime! And you, I want you to go and fetch Inspector Lestrade and inform him that a threat has been made on Mrs. Holmes' life." Anderson quickly relayed the details to the orderly before the young man ran off to go do as he was told.

Anderson smiled determinedly at Molly as they continued on their way to the stairwell. "Now, let us get you home…and we shall be sure that Mr. Holmes hears of this outrage!"

Molly's heart sank a little, even as she thanked him and was feeling glad to have a friend on her side. Yes, Sherlock would hear of it…he'd have to hear about all of it now. She dreaded telling him that this was not the first threat that she'd received.

* * *

Sherlock leaned his weight on the mantel, his hand grasping the wood so hard that he thought it might crack. He stared silently into the fire, the flame in his eyes matching its intensity. He turned finally when he heard Molly's footsteps returning to the sitting room with what she said she was going to retrieve.

Molly looked resigned when she handed over the items to him. Sherlock took the anti-feminism advertisement and the note included in the delivered hand, and he examined both thoroughly. He read the words, looked at the handwriting, and noted any smudges or ink or variations in the way the pages were cut. After a long while, he finally looked back at her.

"Where you ever planning to share these things with me?" His question was simple, but the meaning behind it was not.

Molly's eyes fell to the ground. "I had hoped that this would all…blow over with time. I believed that if this person or people saw that I was standing my ground, they would leave me be. So I suppose the answer is no. I had hoped never to have to trouble you with it." She raised her brown eyes to meet his again, and he was surprised to find that it was like a stab to his heart…deep and painful.

" _Trouble me_?" Sherlock questioned, almost angrily. He pressed his lips together, choosing not to speak further at the moment.

He marched past Molly and over to where Anderson stood by the doorway. He thrust out his hand and gave the man a quick but firm handshake. "Anderson, my gratitude for your support of my wife and attempt to keep this matter in hand, but I shall take it from here. Good day to you, sir, I have much work to do and there is not a moment to spare." Before Anderson could say much in reply, Sherlock took quick strides down the hall toward his bedroom. He could hear Molly also thanking the man and bidding him good day before she follow after him.

"Thank goodness my mother and sister are out to lunch at the moment," Molly said with a sigh as she entered their bedroom. "W-what are you doing?" she asked, observing the fact that he had discarded his dressing gown and replaced it with a jacket.

"Going out, obviously. The more time goes by, the less likely it will be that I'll easily track down who this person or persons are that have been threatening your welfare." He spoke quickly while moving about the room and readying himself.

"But I- I told you that Inspector Lestrade was informed. They'll likely be at Bart's right now, observing the scene and making inquiries."

Sherlock whirled to face her. "I care _nothing_ for what Scotland Yard is doing about this matter. This is primarily _my_ concern and I would want to deal with it personally even if the Queen herself had assigned her personal guard to the case!" His voice had risen steadily as he spoke, and he saw the shock in her face as she stared back at him.

"Mr. Holmes, there's…" Molly's voice was rather small and unsure, especially compared with the way his had sounded. "There is no one else present to hear you at the moment, and I would beg you not to turn this into some grand display as part of our charade of a normal marriage." She shifted her feet nervously. "I hardly think this is the time for such a thing."

The look in her eyes further twisted the knife that had buried itself deep just minutes earlier. How could this be where things stood between them? And yet, he knew very well that this was exactly where he himself had put them.

Sherlock blinked, staring down at her. "You…you believe that is the only reason I would have to want to protect your safety? To put on a show? You are my-" He stopped himself as he realized that he was about to say _wife._ But he couldn't really say that, could he? Yes, technically she was his wife…but in private moments, the two of them didn't refer to each other in that way. He even still privately addressed her as Miss Hooper! To suddenly call her as his wife would certainly confuse her, perhaps even as much as he'd just confused himself…

He quickly came up with an equally accurate alternative. "You are my friend," he said kindly but firmly.

Molly seemed to become a bit emotional in addition to her confusion at his attention. She opened her mouth, but quickly closed it once again, pressing her lips together and shifting her eyes away from his for a moment before finally speaking. "Mr. Holmes, please, you don't need to take any action. I would rather you keep out of it and avoid anything hasty. Surely Scotland Yard-" Sherlock quickly cut her off.

He touched her face, just briefly, but it was more than enough to make her halt mid-sentence and stare wide eyed at him.

"Your family will return, likely within the half hour. Tell them everything that's happened," he stated as his hand dropped from her cheek. "Mrs. Hudson is downstairs, so you may go sit with her if you'd rather not be alone till then. I will also make sure a couple of my irregulars are in the area to keep a watchful eye. I will return later…and this will be settled, I swear it." He told her with his eyes as much as his words, and this time he didn't give her the chance to argue.

Sherlock turned and left her standing there, hurrying from the flat to do exactly what he'd promised. He would end this tonight.

* * *

Sherlock eased the bedroom door open and quietly entered, seeing immediately that Molly had left her bedside lamp on, but had nodded off anyway. Not a deep sleep though, because her eyes shot open the moment he approached the bed.

"Mr. Holmes!" He watched her scan his face as he came closer and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Oh, your eye," she murmured while sitting up to face him.

Sherlock removed and tossed his jacket on the nearby chair with a slight groan. "It's just a bruise. You should see the professor."

"What?" Molly was instantly shocked. "You mean…"

"Professor Davis was behind all of it. Oh, yes there were others involved at his request. But he was the mastermind," Sherlock said with disdain. "Of course he insisted he meant no harm! Only to scare you off. No harm to you at all!" He laughed in disgust.

"It's difficult to believe," Molly said, shaking her head. "He always seemed rather polite."

"Idiot," Sherlock hissed angrily as he tugged at his neck tie and loosened his shirt collar. "You've nothing to worry about now, though. I've ensured that he will be punished to the maximum degree. That includes likely not being welcome to teach at Bart's again. He'll not be any more trouble to you and it will send a powerful message to any other foolish men who feel so very threatened simply by your presence! You will be free to learn without worry, just as it should have been from the start. It's what I promised you when you came here and it is the least you deserve…the least that I can do." When Sherlock looked back over at her, he saw that he eyes were filled to the brim and her chin was quivering despite her efforts to still it.

"Miss Hooper…" Sherlock wasn't sure what else to say besides her name now that her emotion was so evident.

Molly sniffed and gave him a watery smile. "I'm alright, truly. I just…I want to thank you. I- I'm not sure I have the words…"

He was a little taken aback at first when she reached out and slid her arms around his neck, pulling herself over against him and holding him tight. He hesitated momentarily, processing this new and overwhelming feeling. But then he lifted his own arms in instinctive response and wrapped them around her small form, contributing what seemed to be the missing piece of their unexpected embrace. Because once he'd done that, Sherlock realized that he and Molly were truly locked together in what felt like an unshakable physical bond. It was like a practical experiment in applied strength, pressure, action, and reaction. The results were…thrilling.

Sherlock could feel her breathing against his neck and could even feel the dampness from her tears when she finally spoke.

"I am sorry I kept all of that from you," she mumbled against his shirt.

"I am just as sorry that you thought you needed to." He felt her hold tighten a bit.

Sherlock shut his eyes tight, wanting to give his other senses maximum control over this experience. Not only did this allow him to enjoy their embrace more fully, but it also helped him to sense what _she_ felt. Molly finally felt safe, at ease, and cared about. That had been what he wanted since this afternoon, and it was such a relief to know he'd been able to give her what she needed. She was happy.

He was admittedly a bit let down when Molly let go and shifted back to lean against her pillow again. But once they made eye contact again, it brought Sherlock back to reality a little and he instantly got up to finish readying himself for bed.

By the time he settled in under the covers, Molly was already half asleep, lying on her side facing toward him. He reached over and tugged the blankets up over her shoulder where they'd slid down. He was about to lay back himself when he realized the lamp on Molly's side was still on. His own fatigue made him unwilling to get up and go all the way around the bed again, so he carefully moved over and leaned around the sleepy Molly in order to turn the lamp off. As he finished his task and was moving his arm back, he felt a weight settle onto his chest. There was Molly's head, resting comfortably on him as she let out a very soft sigh. He froze for a moment, wondering if he should shift away from her completely.

But he didn't. Not so much because he thought he shouldn't, but because he simply didn't want to. Sherlock leaned back against his pillow, easing his arm around Molly's shoulders and leaving her head exactly where it rested in its strangely comfortable spot…right atop the rhythmic thumping of his heart.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock walked through the grass toward the rock in the woods where Molly sat, her half pinned up hair blowing in the breeze. He felt so light and small, his ten year old legs and body taking a moment to become accustomed to. As he approached, she turned and grinned at him, her little upturned nose and big brown eyes just the same even in her very youthful face.

"I found more beetles, Sherlock!" Molly announced excitedly as she continued laying them out on some leaves atop the rock. "Shall we list them in the notebook?"

Sherlock reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out the little leather bound book where they recorded all their scientific findings from their walks in the woods. Molly began carefully sliding off the rock to stand on the ground below, and Sherlock automatically extended his hand, taking her's and supporting her till she was on her feet again.

"Thank you, Sherlock," she said, giving him another brilliant smile. "You always keep me safe."

He was warmed at hearing the words, but somehow he wasn't able to speak. He could only listen to her little voice.

Molly took the notebook and attached pencil and she began writing things down, her childlike but meticulous handwriting just as he always remembered it. Sherlock stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the rock, watching her make all sorts of descriptive notes about each new beetle she'd discovered.

But suddenly, she set the pencil down and looked up, turning to face him. "Do you have to go?"

Sherlock said nothing, just staring back at her sweet little face. But she acted as if he'd answered her anyway, nodding and smiling again.

"It's ok, you can go if you need to. I'll miss you, though. I'm happiest when I'm with you, you know…because I love you, Sherlock...do you love me too?" Her sweet little childish face blushed a little as she reached over and took his hand.

Sherlock slowly looked away from her face and down to see where their hands were connected. When he did, he saw not children's hands, but the hands of a grown man and woman. That was when he raised his eyes back upward and was greeted by a different sight.

There stood the fully grown Molly Hooper, smiling sweetly up at him. She wore a white cotton dress with a yellow sash and her long chestnut tresses cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Her fingers were still interlaced with his and she gave his hand an extra little squeeze as she spoke again, this time in the lovely voice that was so familiar to him.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes," she repeated softly, and took a step closer to him. "Do you love me?"

Sherlock felt his lips part, but he still couldn't quite get any sound to come out, not that he knew exactly what to say. As he stood there mute, Molly reached her other hand up and cradled his cheek in her soft palm. She stepped closer still, so that they were now practically sharing the same breath. In fact, he could actually feel her breath upon his lips.

"Do you love me?" Molly whispered one more time, and her eyes flitted to his lips which couldn't manage an answer. At least, not with spoken words.

Sherlock closed his eyes and began to lean down…

* * *

When Sherlock's eyes fluttered open again, his brain at first thought that he was in the exact same place and position that he had just been experiencing a split second before. Because there was Molly's face. But then, in the space of a breath, Sherlock's mind caught up and began to fully awaken.

Yes, he was practically nose to nose with Molly, but they were not standing in the woods…they were lying in their bed.

Sherlock's eyes flew wide open then, and he realized with relief that Molly was still asleep. He also looked down and noticed that his arm was draped over her waist, and there was less than a foot of space between their bodies. He swallowed thickly, considering whether it was riskier to move or to remain perfectly still. His eyes scanned her face and listened to her breathing patterns, and he concluded that she was still sleeping deeply and therefore it was safe to move.

He lifted his arm straight up and off her waist very carefully, and then pivoted it over to lay on his own body instead. After breathing a small sigh of relief, he unfortunately took note of her face again and how very close it was to his own, just like what he'd dreamed so vividly. He truly was barely a breath away and if he were to simply lean forward just a hair…

Sherlock pressed both his eyes and his lips together until it almost hurt, trying to will those pesky impulses away. At the same time, he shifted his body and slid further away from her. He needed to get up. He needed to literally escape, as if she were unwittingly holding him captive on his own mattress. He was able to expertly slide his way off the bed with almost no disruption to the stillness of her body, and once he was up he set about dressing as quickly as humanly possible.

As he was hurriedly buttoning his shirt, he caught the inconveniently timed sight of Molly awakening and stretching…rather enticingly. Sherlock turned away and squeezed his eyes shut once again as he continued with his buttons.

"You're up and about rather early," Molly commented drowsily.

"Yes, I um, I've got to go out…important matters." He cleared his throat. "Utmost importance."

Sherlock grabbed his suit jacket and tugged it over his shoulders quickly, wanting to hurry but not wanting to give the appearance of it. He failed in that regard.

"Mr. Holmes, is everything alright?"

He barely looked over at her, honestly afraid of what he'd see and whether he'd be physically able to look away again. He chuckled somewhat nervously as he raked a comb quickly through his hair and answered her at lightning speed. "I am perfectly fine, everything is fine, no problem at all, why wouldn't everything be fine?"

Sherlock didn't bother to wait for her response, but simply made his way to the bedroom door. Again, he hardly glanced in her direction as he made his way out, but instead just spoke a hurried good morning before disappearing and closing the door behind him.

One more moment in that blasted bedroom would be the death of him.

* * *

Sherlock walked slowly along the river, paying attention to little else around him except for where his feet were hitting the ground. He was far too focused on the thoughts and questions in his mind. And no matter how logically and practically he tried to continue thinking, that foolish conversation with John Watson the night before kept replaying in his head…

" _Holmes? Holmes?"_

_Sherlock finally looked over at his friend across the darkened carriage._

" _Are you sure you're alright?"_

" _I am perfectly fine now that this matter is settled and done with." Sherlock had to admit he was still clenching his fists though, and that all he really wanted to do was to get back to Baker Street as quickly as possible._

_There was a lengthy silence before John spoke again, and when he did, Sherlock's gaze was back on him like a bolt of lightning._

" _My God, you're in love with her."_

" _What?" Sherlock scrunched up his face as he let out a short laugh. "Why? Because I'd like to see an unreasonable and cruel man punished for an actual crime against a woman who is doing nothing but pursuing her life's ambition?" He shook his head at the ridiculous accusation._

" _Oh come now, Holmes," John said in an exasperated tone. "You almost killed the man! I wonder if you would have, had I not been there. You were not just out to solve a crime tonight, you were out to avenge her! And I knew exactly what I was watching as you nearly tore the man limb from limb. It is quite simple to deduce."_

_Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "You are the sudden expert on deduction, are you? And how was it so very simple Dr. Watson?"_

_John leaned forward in his seat and smiled a little smugly. "Because I recognized it personally, the look you had in your eyes. It is the look of a man who would do anything humanly possible, and perhaps even beyond, if it meant the safety of the woman he loves."_

_Sherlock stared back at his friend for a moment and then finally crossed his arms defiantly. "And precisely why is it a revelation that I care for Molly Hooper? She has always been a trusted companion, ever since we were children!"_

_John shook his head and chuckled. "It is deeper than that, and you know it. I've never seen you like this. And I don't just mean this night, but also how you've been these past weeks. Holmes, you've been happy…really happy."_

_The detective responded with a childishly contrary comment once again. "We are play acting, in case it's slipped your sieve of a memory."_

" _Ah, so it's distasteful sharing your flat and your bed with her?" John asked feigning fascination with this new information._

_"I did not say exactly that!" Sherlock corrected, annoyed that he'd just cornered himself._

" _And you must dislike the kisses and touches and laughing together? You must be all too anxious to be rid of the whole thing!"_

" _Yes yes, Watson, you make yourself perfectly clear! No, I do not find the entire thing distasteful, but that doesn't change the fact that it is rooted in a deception. I am not truly in love with Molly Hooper!"_

_John looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, seemingly trying his hand at some more deduction before he opened his mouth again. "And if you were…would you tell me?"_

_Sherlock stared back at his friend, mute and still, honestly not sure what to say in answer._

" _No you wouldn't, I should think," John stated, looking a bit disappointed in his friend. "Especially because you won't even tell yourself."_

…Sherlock leaned on the guard rail at the side of the river, staring into the water which reflected the morning rays of the sunrise. He was beginning to question whether he'd taken on too much with this whole affair. Was this really the wise course? Was it the logical path if he were to continue to avoid the proverbial fly in the ointment?

Yes, it was a particular kind of friendship he enjoyed with Molly. He was willing to admit that it was unlike what he shared with other close friends. There were subtle but key differences, and they made him a bit uneasy. The most pronounced of which was her ability to make him feel something in addition to the affection of friendship… _desire_.

He wasn't immune and would never claim to be. But he did successfully avoid such feelings for the most part, feelings that railed against logic and cold reason which he'd spent the better part of his adult life in the pursuit of. What troubled Sherlock the most was not simply that the sight of Molly Hooper could stir such base desires in him, but more so the fact that it went hand in hand with how much she meant to him emotionally. She'd unwittingly conquered him now both physically and emotionally…which was a rather deadly combination. In fact, it was a combination that bore a very simply title. One that John Watson had so clearly laid out in front of him the previous night…

"No," Sherlock muttered to himself, trying to reject the obvious conclusion. He gulped fresh air and shut his eyes for a moment. It was all so very inconvenient that he would feel this strongly. He should try to stamp it out, crush it before it ruined things completely. He would do so in a heartbeat…

If this feeling wasn't so absolutely fantastic.

* * *

Sherlock retired to his bedroom early in the evening and stayed there for quite a while. The ladies were up and chatting in the sitting room after dinner and there was little or no space he could have absolutely to himself. He had to admit that for the reason of space he was glad that the next day they'd be bidding Molly's mother and sister farewell.

The timing was somewhat difficult though, given the fact that the threat to Molly had only just happened. But the date of their departure had been decided in advance, and Mrs. Hooper felt they shouldn't overstay their welcome. There was a brief offer for Molly to return to the country with them for a while, just to relax after such a scare. But she had instantly rejected the idea, insisting that her place was in London. This was her home now, and there was nowhere better for her to rise above the senseless acts she'd witnessed.

Sherlock felt a surge of pride as she'd spoken of London that way to her family.

Sherlock was trying to work out a case involving ciphers, so he needed the space. There were messages and notations and possible keys spread out all over the bed, and he was pacing the perimeter, thinking and rethinking possibilities. After a while though, he felt the need for his pipe, so he decided to emerge from his hideaway briefly.

As he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, he realized that nobody had heard him come out, because he could hear Molly and Mrs. Hooper speaking about him. Seeing that detective work was in his blood and couldn't simply be shut off, he crept a bit closer in order to hear what they were saying more clearly.

"I am sure Sherlock appreciates your trust as well. I admit, mother, I am a bit surprised that you were still willing to return home. That is, after what had just happened."

Mrs. Hooper chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it might seem a bit out of character for me. But I can honestly say that I am not afraid to go back to the country and leave you here in London. And although I trust you, it is mostly thanks to your husband that I feel so much more at ease lately. I cannot imagine a man who cares more about your welfare and wishes than Sherlock Holmes, and I admit that I'm pleased now that he is your husband…regardless of why this whole thing began."

"Pardon?" Molly asked. "What do you mean by, 'why this whole thing began?'"

There was a pause, and Sherlock awaited Mrs. Hooper's answer just as much as Molly likely did.

"My dear," Mrs. Hooper said gently. "I know what medical school has always meant to you. I've always known. And I understand that it's something you wanted to accomplish, in whatever way was necessary. So…I would understand if you'd taken rather drastic measures in order to pursue your dreams."

Sherlock knew what was coming next before the words were spoken.

"Molly, darling, you can tell me honestly if your marriage to Sherlock was simply a means to enter medical school. There are worse reasons to marry, and there are certainly worse sorts of marriages to have to live with! If that is what you did, I would understand. And it would not make me love you any less."

 _My God,_ Sherlock thought. He had not foreseen this conversation happening before Molly's family finished their visit. It seemed the truth was going to come out far sooner than either he or Molly had planned. But perhaps this was a blessing, particularly for Molly. No more need to pretend or put on a show. Why not simply be honest about how she felt, or didn't feel, and admit the true reason she was here? It would save time and explanation when word of their failed marriage reached her family…

"Mother, I appreciate your unconditional support…but you're very much mistaken."

Sherlock frowned as he heard Molly's soft spoken answer and listened intently as she continued.

"You're right, medical school has always meant the world to me. It was a dream of mine since I was a child, and although there were times it seemed impossible, I never wanted to truly let it go. But…there are other things that mean the world to me as well. You see, I could never commit to a marriage where I feel nothing for my husband. No matter what medical school means to me, it is not worth that sort of sacrifice of happiness. Trust me when I say that…"

Sherlock could hear in her voice that her little lips had lifted in a slight smile.

"There is no sacrifice in being married to Sherlock Holmes. I just- I love him so dearly, so completely, even with all his oddities!" She giggled for a moment, but then there was another pause, and her voice was more serious when she spoke again. "I would do it all again. I would marry him again tomorrow…even if there was no Bart's medical school."

Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he had to put a hand out against the wall, bracing himself as he felt like his mind was suddenly reeling. He vaguely heard some sort of kind and positive answer from Mrs. Holmes to Molly after her speech, but he didn't bother to listen to all the details. Suddenly, he couldn't really be bothered to get that pipe either, and so back to the bedroom he silently crept.

Sherlock went to bed early that night, after clearing all his case work from the covers. In fact, he actually pretended to be asleep when Molly came in later. His mind was racing so hard and fast that he doubted he'd get much rest tonight, but he also wanted to avoid having any conversation. Part of him wondered whether he'd be able to have a casual and cordial conversation with Molly after what he'd overheard. Besides, she'd already questioned why he was so jittery earlier in the day, and he had no solid explanation. Yes, it was best to simply avoid this whole messy topic for now. Thankfully, the fact that she'd spent all day on one of her tea gowns meant there was no need for his assistance with undressing.

She tried to see if he was awake when she finally climbed in the bed and under the covers. "Mr. Holmes?" she whispered, leaning a bit closer.

He was already facing the opposite way and was careful to maintain his slow and steady breathing pattern without moving or making any other noise.

Molly was obviously fooled, and let out what sounded like a contented little sigh as she settled against her pillow and turned out her lamp. Her own breathing soon slowed and Sherlock was hoping that soon he'd be able to get up and pace the room since he was feeling antsy lying in bed. Molly did speak one more time though.

"Goodnight, Mr. Holmes," Molly murmured drowsily.

Not long after, Sherlock was sure she was out, and he was able to shift his own position. In the process of getting up, he turned to look at her sleeping for a moment, illuminated by the bit of moonlight that spilled onto the bed. He reached over and carefully moved a strand of hair off her serene face before answering her very quietly.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Holmes."

* * *

Sherlock looked on as Mrs. Hooper gave Mrs. Hudson a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I'll certainly be thinking of you! You've quite a job looking after this place and its tenants." He didn't miss the humorous little look that his mother in law gave him.

"It may be a chore, but it's also my pleasure, Mrs. Hooper. Do write whenever you can, and I'll be sure to stay in touch as well. These two may just get so busy that they won't share the latest news!"

"I'll certainly write, Mrs. Hudson, thank you. And we appreciate your hospitality during these past few weeks."

Rebecca had pulled Molly aside and was saying her goodbyes, and it seemed Mrs. Hooper had the same idea, because she stepped over to where Sherlock was thus far observing the sendoff at a safe distance.

"I feel sure that you are not entirely sorry to see us go," Mrs. Hooper said with a knowing smile. "It must have been a bit of a hardship, sharing your flat. And of course, not having Molly all to yourself."

Sherlock was able to smile quite genuinely. "I was glad to have you both. You were rather easy to manage as house guests. And besides, I believe I have plenty of time to enjoy my wife's company. You see, there are times when I'm not a completely selfish child."

Mrs. Hooper chuckled and then reached down to give his hand a squeeze. "No, you absolutely are not. And that is one of the things I have enjoyed learning during our visit. I can see it now…how deeply you love my daughter."

Sherlock felt his face heat up involuntarily.

"I feel confident that you would do anything for her, and to ensure her happiness and success." She shrugged and smiled again. "What more could a mother ask for in a husband for her daughter?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and smiled. "I'm pleased you think so. And of course I wish you and Miss Rebecca a safe journey home. Surely Molly will convince me to pay a visit to the country soon enough. I'm sure you'd like to see her again as soon as possible."

Mrs. Holmes reached up and gave Sherlock's cheek a motherly pat. "We won't mind seeing you as well, Mr. Holmes."

Rebecca came and took her mother's place, bidding her brother-in-law farewell. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I've had a marvelous time in London! And I'm glad to see Molly so very happy of course. I heard what you said, and I do hope you keep your word. Come visit us soon because I shall certainly be dying of boredom!"

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, I believe something can be arranged. I detest boredom myself, so I am not in favor of anyone suffering from it."

Rebecca leaned in a bit and whispered. "Oh and would you be a dear and give this to Inspector Lestrade for me?" She quickly and covertly handed him a small folded note. "I was very sorry not to be able to see him again, and I'd like to make sure he knows that he is more than welcome to write."

Sherlock shook his head in amusement as he tucked the note safely in his jacket pocket. "Consider it done, Miss Rebecca."

Rebecca gave him a little wink before turning back to her sister once more. Molly held both her mother and sister in extended embraces, thanking them and assuring them she'd see them soon. Soon, the two women were settled in their carriage and ready for the journey home.

Molly stepped back and stood next to Sherlock, who looked down and thought he saw her chin quiver just for a moment. He reached down and took her hand, which made her look up at him and smile in appreciation.

They both waved off the carriage as it began to move down the street, leaving them standing alone on the walkway of Baker Street. It became quiet as the goodbyes faded with the disappearance of the carriage and the waving ceased. And then it was just Sherlock and Molly, standing there, frozen in the moment, no doubt both realizing that they'd just reached another crossroads.

Sherlock glanced down at the small woman standing next to him and had the sudden overwhelming feeling that this particular game was mostly over. The necessity to put on an act and to speak and behave just so at all times was done. Now, this was simply their life. Cases, schooling, experiments, meals, tea and biscuits, quiet moments beside the fire…just life. Was this how marriage truly felt? To share all those very normal things together? If so, he wasn't sorry. He felt as though he could echo Molly's words to her mother the other night. He'd do it all again as well.

Molly looked up at him again and smiled, making something swell deep in his chest. He smiled back at her.

Molly, his wife…who loved him.


	12. Chapter 12

"Thank you," Molly mumbled with her mouth still full of a few hair pins as Sherlock stepped away from lacing her up. She secured the last couple of strands of hair and then began working at the rest of her outfit. "I'll just get the tea started for us when I'm done."

"Excellent," Sherlock stated as he stared out the window while finishing with his necktie.

Molly continued fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of her blouse as she left the bedroom and went to the kitchen. She was still getting used to the fact that it was so much quieter here at Baker Street now that it was just her and Sherlock. She'd become accustomed to having her family around as well, and this felt so different. Almost as if it made the whole thing much more real.

It was a lovely sort of reality though. Molly smiled to herself as she filled the kettle. These simple little morning routines had quickly become pleasant moments for the two of them. They would wash and dress, Sherlock assisting her when needed, they would have tea or coffee together and perhaps a bit of breakfast if Molly could persuade him. It was often times rather quiet. There wasn't always lively chatter between them, but there didn't need to be. They were easily in tune, without the need for many words.

Not that there was never conversation. Molly and Sherlock certainly both enjoyed similar activities and topics. Sometimes Sherlock wanted to discuss a case, either one he'd just solved or one he was currently working out. And sometimes Molly would share the notes she'd taken on a recent lecture offered at Bart's, or perhaps an interesting medical study she'd read. The truth was, the two of them were able to coexist quite easily and happily.

In fact, some things hadn't even changed from when Molly's family was there. Once they were gone, Molly had asked if they should begin moving her things upstairs. Sherlock's response surprised her. He had said it would be silly to go to all that trouble. Molly was settled in his room and perfectly comfortable. He insisted that he barely slept a full night, and when he did require sleep he would be perfectly comfortable on the couch. She tried to argue that surely he'd like his private space back, but he absolutely insisted that this is how it should be.

Molly dropped one sugar into his cup and slid it toward him as he emerged from the bedroom, still straightening his suit jacket and looking devastatingly handsome as usual. He lifted the cup to his perfectly contoured lips, sipped, and then emitted a satisfied sigh.

"Perfect, thank you," he said softly and went to take a seat by the fireplace.

"No problem," Molly answered in her own soft tone. She prepared her own cup and went to take a seat.

"And where are you off to today?" Molly asked after a couple minutes of silence.

"Just a favor for Inspector Lestrade. Taking a look at a crime scene for him," Sherlock answered while scanning the paper.

"Ah, good. I'll be stopping by the Watson's at midday and bringing Mary some of that soup she likes. It'll be good for her, and I hate to think of her having to stand in the kitchen to prepare anything for Dr. Watson's dinner."

"Why can't he simply go without a full dinner till the baby is born?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Some people actually like to eat _every_ day," Molly reminded him with a laugh.

"And clearly he does. Watson has gone up seven pounds since he and Mary were wed!"

Molly chuckled again, despite herself, clearly picturing the perturbed look on the doctor's face if he were present to hear the remark.

Soon Sherlock was up and readying himself to leave the flat. She supposed that their rituals when leaving weren't purely those of flatmates. They'd follow each other to the door, making sure the other person had whatever they'd need with them. Molly had insisted that Sherlock specify what time he thought he'd return home, just as he had done while her family was there. She couldn't help blushing when she explained that if she didn't know when he would come back and therefore if he was safe, she'd worry terribly. And to Sherlock's credit, he did do his best to keep her abreast of his whereabouts and schedule.

Molly strolled over to the door as Sherlock pulled his coat over his shoulders, holding his hat and gloves in her hands. He smiled as she silently handed the items over.

"I shall be back by this evening, I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll see you then. I'm sure I'll be back from the Watson's by then as well."

There was, as usual, a brief moment of hesitation, the age old indecision in a farewell between friends. But of course there was nothing else to be done except to exchange a few words when parting, and they both knew it. Another smile and "good morning" later, and Sherlock was out the door, leaving Molly alone in the flat.

She lingered in the sitting room for a while, pouring herself another cup of tea and sipping it slowly. Eventually, she got up and made her way back into the bedroom, sitting at her little study desk and picking up the anatomy textbook she had planned to look over while making soup for the Watsons. As soon as she opened to the last page she'd marked, she laughed aloud.

Molly happily took out a little note left by Sherlock, the now familiar cyphr covering the small slip of paper. She bit her lip and smiled, deciding she'd definitely reward herself after her chores by reading this. And then she smiled even wider as she thought about Sherlock finding the note she'd left for him in his trouser pocket.

* * *

Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back as he paced the burgled shop floor while Watson and Lestrade looked on. He knelt down for a moment, examined something on the floor, and then glanced around some more. He chuckled to himself a little before letting out a little sigh and looking over at the awaiting Inspector.

"Did absolutely none of you manage to notice the very obvious and very telling shoe prints that this individual left behind? He works in masonry! He is also approximately two hundred and ten pounds, six foot one, and slightly favors the right leg. That should give you a rather good start."

Lestrade cleared his throat and looked a bit sheepish. "Any chance you'd believe I was just testing you?"

"None at all, but if so, it was a rather clever test...especially for you lot." Sherlock grinned and stuck his hands into his trouser pockets. His expression shifted as he did, and a second later, he pulled his hand back out to produce a small folded piece of paper. This produced another grin.

Sherlock unfolded the note and scanned the page. "Well played," he murmured while scanning the page. Finally he looked up to see both Watson and Lestrade staring at him in question.

"Find something amusing in your pocket, did you?" Watson asked.

Sherlock gave them a self-satisfied smile while folding the paper back up and returning it to his pocket. "Oh, just a clever little game that Mrs. Holmes and I have taken to playing this past week. Nothing you gentlemen would understand.

Watson grinned teasingly. "Surely it's meant for your eyes only, eh, Holmes?"

Sherlock almost shot back a biting comment about how they were all medical and scientific messages and of the utmost professionalism but then he remembered that Lestrade was present. Besides, he supposed the message he'd left for her today wasn't all business. He and Molly had been exchanging coded messages to each other for day, spending the evenings they had together confirming the decoding. Molly had only beaten him twice thus far, but she was improving quickly.

His lips lifted in what looked like a secret smile. "Ah yes, well, I'm sure you'd agree that a bit of intrigue can do wonders for a marriage."

"Intriguing indeed," Watson said under his breath.

Sherlock gave his friend a covert glare before turning to Lestrade and getting back to the crime scene at hand.

Though, he had to admit, he was more than a little excited to get in the carriage and begin decoding Molly's latest note.

* * *

Molly had just finished setting up some cheese and bread and apple slices when Sherlock came through the door. She was pleased to see his smile upon entering the kitchen.

"Ah, this'll be just the thing. I could use a little something in my stomach." He sat down and began picking at the pieces of bread right away.

"Oh good! I was hoping you'd want some. I was just going to make some tea and settle in by the fire. Would you like a cup?"

"You have to ask?" Sherlock said with a mouth full of bread.

And thus began another almost picturesquely pleasant evening at 221B Baker Street. Molly changed into a tea gown, and Sherlock into his dressing gown. They sat by the fire munching and sipping and each reading something quietly. After fifteen or twenty minutes, Molly set her cup down and spoke excitedly.

"Oh! So how long did it take you today?" she asked with a glimmer in her eyes.

Sherlock set his paper aside while grinning confidently. "Seven minutes."

"Ugh!" Molly gave her leg a little slap in frustration. "Blast, I was so close today!"

"How long?"

"Eight minutes. But I probably would have beaten you if you hadn't given me a message in another language!" She laughed.

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Ah yes…and what was my message exactly?" He touched his fingertips together, steepling them in front of his lips.

Molly's brow rose as she crossed her arms in pride. "Lyrics from La Boheme, of course. How could I mistake that?" She paused, looking down before smiling at him again. "I rather enjoyed that actually. I'm a bit sorry that I chose something so mundane!"

"Mundane?" Sherlock clicked his tongue. "Oh I wouldn't say that. Chemical combinations that are deadly when inhaled? I find that to be rather invigorating! Right on par with lyrics from La Boheme, I should say."

They both laughed for a moment before silence settled again. There was even something like a shy smile that formed on Sherlock's lips just briefly after he took another sip of tea. He set the cup down again and drew breath before speaking again.

"On another note, I thought I should make you aware of an upcoming event. It is a few months off and surely a bit of a bore, but we'll be obligated to attend. My brother will be hosting a rather lavish party for our parents fortieth wedding anniversary."

"Oh, how lovely," Molly said, smiling happily at the prospect, despite it being rather far off.

"Yes, well I'll more than likely delete the information between now and then and my brother will come breaking down my door the night of! Best if you keep track of the date and plan for our attending." He acted as if he couldn't be bothered, but there was also something peeking through in his tone. Something hidden between the lines. Anticipation perhaps?

"I'm very glad you told me," Molly said genuinely. "I'll very much look forward to attending. And of course I'll come up with a thoughtful gift as well."

"Our presence isn't the gift?" Sherlock asked.

Molly chuckled. "Perhaps it will have to be, seeing as you may not be able to fit your ego and a gift through the door!"

He narrowed his eyes with a playful smirk. "Hopefully your gift will be to have improved your dancing abilities since the last time I witnessed them."

Molly's jaw dropped in amused indignation. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Holmes! My dancing was perfectly fine, thank you!"

"Perfectly fine, hm? Yes, perfectly fine is a rather lofty standard to have reached. Surely there's no need for improvement once one has reached such a level!" Sherlock drawled sarcastically.

"Alright alright!" Molly said, unable to hold back some of her laughter. "I admit I wasn't perfect back then. But I'll have you know that I have improved vastly! I practiced since you were last in the country." She held her chin up a bit in pride.

Sherlock chuckled low as he had a puff of his pipe. "I'm sure you have, Miss Hooper, seeing as there were such frequent balls and parties for you to hone your skills!"

Molly rolled her eyes. "I didn't need balls to practice!" She chewed her lip for a moment, realizing that she was less than thrilled to admit her methods. "I had um...my imaginary dance partner."

"Practicing without a partner?" Sherlock laughed again. "Oh yes, I can imagine the difference that has made!"

"I am much better!"

"I can't say I'm convinced."

"Well I am!"

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely!"

"Prove it."

Molly and Sherlock stared at each other for a moment before Molly finally opened her mouth again. "Pardon?"

Instead of answering right away, Sherlock got up from where he sat and walked over to his gramophone. He carefully got it set and started it playing a very simple waltz. He turned and walked back toward Molly and gave her a half smile as he extended his hand.

"I said, prove it," he repeated softly.

"Oh um," Molly began hesitantly. "Well, I suppose..."

She took his hand and got up from her seat, and quickly found her senses to be overtaken by him. His hand around her waist, the other holding her's tightly, her hand grasping his shoulder, and his face so close that she could see the little flecks of gold in his eyes. Molly had to swallow hard as those blue green eyes met her brown ones.

Before she could consider whether it was wise, she opened her mouth and voiced her thoughts aloud. "The last time we did this was...well, not such a pleasant occasion."

There was no mistaking the brief flash of realization in his eyes when he heard this mention of the past. "Yes well...we needn't worry about all that now." He cleared his throat and put on a small smile. "Let us see just how much you have improved, Miss Hooper." His tone was challenging but playful.

"And you consider yourself to be the expert?" Molly retorted with a smile as their feet began to move.

"I think there's little point in false modesty in regards to my dancing abilities."

Molly very much wished she could tease him further about his ego...but heaven help her, she was far too wrapped up in the moment. Because he was indeed like a dream to dance with. She'd never have said it out loud, seeing as his head might explode, but he had improved as well. He was an even more skilled partner than the last time they'd danced, many years ago. And even then, she had wished to stay in his arms forever.

"Hmm," he hummed as they floated around the small space available to them. "Smoother steps I suppose."

"Rather high praise," Molly said with a wag of her head.

"But as I recall, the spin used to give you a bit of trouble." Without warning, he pushed a bit on her waist and spun her outward with his other hand.

Molly almost kept in step, but when he drew her back in she returned with a bit too much force and she stumbled a bit, her weight leaning into his chest for a moment. She pulled back and righted herself, clearing her throat and feeling her face heat to a boiling point.

"I suppose the spin still trips me up a bit," she said with a brief glance up into his eyes.

Sherlock seemed to hesitate, and she thought his cheeks were a bit pink as well. "Yes, well, I imagine your invisible partner was less than cooperative with practicing the spin...the simple fool!"

Molly was put at ease again and they both laughed as Sherlock led them around the little room with a bit more enthusiasm.

"He couldn't possibly have had my wit or intelligence!" Sherlock added a bit breathlessly.

"Nothing like!"

"And surely he lacked my coordination as well!"

"Oh he was monstrously clumsy!" Molly said through giggles. "It was a disgrace, really!"

"And therefore it is wonder that you were able to progress even this far, to be dancing with such a partner all these years!"

Molly's laughter continued as the song slowed and their feet followed suit. They stayed there, still in their dancing stance as the room became completely free of the notes that had filled the air moments before, both of them breathing rapidly and staring at the other.

"Well," Sherlock finally breathed out. "I do hope at least this partner you were stuck with had his looks to recommend him, if not his talents."

Somehow their expressions had become serious, and Molly had to gulp another breath before licking her lips and answering softly. "Unfortunately for him, in that he fell short as well...particularly in comparison." Her eyes scanned his face as she spoke, drinking it in as he watched her with what seemed to be equal intensity.

They seemed locked like that, hands fused in place and eyes invisibly tethered to each other. Molly couldn't hear anything except the breaths they were both taking and the pounding of her own heart.

That is, until there came a pounding on the door of the flat.

Sherlock let go and was at the door in a flash, leaving Molly to perch her little hand on her hips and breath deeply, hoping to clear her head. A moment later Sherlock shut the door and walked back over.

"That was one of my irregulars delivering a message from Lestrade. It seems he's currently on the trail of a suspect and would like my assistance." The voice of Sherlock the detective had returned, and he seemed all business as he read the scribbled note in his hand.

"Ah, I see. Well, you'd better be off then," Molly said, with an added smile.

He looked up from the note and back at her. "Mrs. Hudson is home in case you should feel-"

"No no, I'll be fine, don't be silly!" Molly said, waving him off.

Sherlock nodded and then started to walk off, but then turned back. "Oh and the party for my parents, the invitation is..." He walked over to his desk and gestured to a haphazard pile. "It is definitely in here. Perhaps you could find it and keep track of the date and arrangements. I don't have time for such trifles."

"Of course. I'll find it, it's no trouble."

Sherlock barely waited for her to finish talking before giving her a quick smile and "thank you" and heading down the hall to change. Once the bedroom door shut, Molly turned to the pile of papers and chuckled to herself at the mess as she began thumbing through one by one.

There were seemingly endless case notes and experiment results, but finally, Molly caught sight of a smaller sheet of paper with some specially printed gold lettering. Sure enough, this was the invitation he'd spoken of. Once she'd lifted it off the pile though, what lay beneath it also stood out a bit.

She couldn't help picking up the thick envelope that bore the return address of a solicitor's office. It was already opened, so the sheets of paper that it contained were all too easy to pull out and take a peek at. Molly tugged them out just enough to read the bold words at the top- _In Her Majesty's Court for Divorce and Matrimonial Causes._

Molly's head whirled around instinctively to make sure she was still alone, and then her widened eyes returned to the page. She gingerly removed them fully from the envelope and her eyes scanned the words. The details were all there, some of them all too familiar. Her eyes fell to her name, written neatly just after her husband's. the location of the marriage, the reason for dissolving the union. Molly could feel her heart pounding. It was almost like looking upon the face of a corpse in her likeness...like looking into the grim face of the future. She tried to remind herself to be a grown woman as she turned to the second page. But that was when her jaw truly dropped.

There, at the bottom of the second page, in the handwriting that was so familiar to her...was Sherlock's signature.

She stared and stared at the page, the swirling letters which were written in what looked like his usual lightning speed, almost as if he wanted to get it done quickly and move on to more important matters. Molly pressed her lips together as she felt an uncomfortable pressure building in her chest and throat.

Thankfully, the sound of Sherlock opening the bedroom door frightened her into a more sound mind. She quickly shoved the divorce papers under the pile and turned with the invitation in her hand.

"Ah good, you've found it among the chaos," he stated casually, and then went for his coat and hat.

"Yes, I've got it now and I'll take care of it," Molly said, giving him what she hoped was a convincing smile.

"Excellent. Now, I wouldn't advise waiting up, in case you were thinking of it. I may be rather late, considering that it is already half past eight."

"I wasn't planning on it actually," she answered quite honestly. "I think I'd very much like to get some rest."

"Right, well then, good night and I'll see you first thing, Miss Hooper." Sherlock smiled and gave his hat a little tip before quickly exiting.

Molly waited, rooted in that spot as she listened for his footsteps and subsequent opening and shutting of the door. After that, she peeked out the window to confirm that he was indeed walking briskly down the darkened street. Once she knew she was completely alone, Molly went back to the pile of papers and pulled out the ominous documents once again.

She took them and sat in Sherlock's chair, desperate for some sort of comfort that he could at least indirectly offer. She looked down in her lap and stared at the two items she held. There, on the left, was the elegant stationary with glittering letters that cordially invited Mr. and Mrs. Holmes to a fine evening of dining and dancing. And on the right was the document that promised to destroy everything about the existence of a Mr. and Mrs. Holmes.

Molly hadn't even become aware that her eyes had filled with tears until they began pouring out. Ironically, they fell upon the party invitation. This only added to her emotions and she began furiously wiping the moisture away with her sleeve while trying to sniff away any further tears from falling. She held up the now slightly soiled invitation and clasped her other hand over her mouth as she began to sob uncontrollably. She set both the invitation and divorce document aside on the desk behind her and laid her head on the arm of the chair...the chair that smelled so intoxicatingly of her husband's soap.

A fresh sob erupted and eventually Molly was forced to lift her head up again, lest she soak Sherlock's chair. She wiped at her face as she stared off into space for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling like she couldn't lift this suffocating weight from her chest. It was the weight of what was to come, and she'd been a fool to ignore it of late. Molly shook her head, thinking about how only minutes before she'd been blissfully waltzing with Sherlock and enjoying the feel of his hands upon her. The constant closeness and ease she'd settled into with him, it had to stop. Because the moment would come all too soon, when her entire life here with this man would come to a violent halt. And then she would truly be left with nothing. And had she really begun to fool herself into believing that there was something there beneath the surface in Sherlock's mind and heart? How could she have let herself be so deluded? She had literally seen the proof in the palm of her hand. He'd already willingly signed away his life with her. He had no doubts now, and obviously didn't anticipate having any in the future.

Grief very slowly began to turn to determination. Molly's tears gradually dried and her breathing became easier. Finally, she got up and carefully placed the divorce document back into its envelope and put it back in it's place among the pile of papers. She took the fancy invitation in hand and placed it where it would be visible on the mantel, right alongside Sherlock's skull.

After extinguishing the lamps in the sitting room and kitchen, she trudged down the hall to the bedroom that she'd quickly come to love. A few minutes later, as Molly settled in for the night and snuggled under the covers that didn't only smell of Sherlock now, but of her as well, she prayed for strength. She prayed for the strength to do what would hurt now, but be a kindness to herself in the months and years to come.

Tomorrow, a number of things would have to change.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes and stretched. Well, as much as he could stretch on his couch. His gaze traveled to the clock on the wall…almost ten in the morning. As he sat up gradually, he noted that the flat was rather quiet. Molly was possibly studying in the bedroom, not wanting to disturb him.

He finally stood and took his suit jacket from where it lay on the couch's arm. May as well wash up and put on a fresh shirt, as well as getting this one in the wash. Sherlock actually began to utter a "good morning" as he pushed the bedroom door open, but the words got stuck halfway once he had a full view of the room.

He frowned as he walked in. The little desk was empty. Not just without Molly, but also without any of her books or notes. The bed was perfectly made, but Molly's book and hand cream were missing from the side table. Her little box of pins was also missing from the top of the bureau. All of these things prompted Sherlock to rush over and throw the wardrobe doors open. What he saw, or rather didn't see, turned his blood cold.

That was when he turned on his heels and ran back out of the bedroom. He rushed through the kitchen and into the sitting room, preparing to fly down the stairs and outside to begin an all out search. But he stopped in his tracks before going for his coat. Sherlock glanced in the kitchen and noticed that Molly's little cup and saucer were still on the table, having been recently used. It was the cup and saucer she'd brought with her from her mother's house and it was her favorite.

Once he'd noticed this, he started looking around the rest of the flat. And sure enough, there were some of Molly's things in the sitting room as well. The same things of hers that had been there before. If he hadn't ventured into the bedroom, things would have looked completely normal. So where were all those missing things?

Sherlock glanced toward the door, realizing there was only one more place to check, no matter how illogical it seemed. He opened the door to the stairwell and went up, stopping to knock once he'd got there. No answer. Finally he opened it himself, and what he was inside was honestly just as shocking as what he didn't see in his bedroom.

All of Molly's things.

He walked the small room, seeing all the things that had been moved from their place the day before. He opened the smaller wardrobe and saw all her dresses and skirts and blouses hung carefully. It was there, all of it, all her things. All except that little desk. It seemed that Molly had literally moved everything she could carry.

"What?" Sherlock muttered to himself as he turned about the room, becoming more perplexed by the moment. What exactly had happened since he left for that case last night?

And that was when the door swung open and he turned to see Molly standing there staring at him.

"Miss Hooper?" He spoke her name as a question, hoping that she would provide the answers he was searching for.

"Mr. Holmes…good morning."

His eyes shifted for a moment before meeting her's again. "Is it?"

Molly chewed her lip, looking a bit embarrassed. "I was um, just visiting Mrs. Hudson downstairs. I didn't realize you were looking for me...I see you've discovered my little changes," she said with a nervous little laugh.

"And precisely what prompted these changes, may I ask?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes. "Was something amiss with my bedroom?"

"Oh no!" Molly hurriedly answered. "There was nothing at all wrong with it. Well, that is, except that it is _your_ bedroom."

Sherlock frowned in response, which prompted Molly to continue explaining.

"What I mean to say is, I thought about it and I feel that it's really best if you have your own space back. It is your room after all and I hate to continue intruding. And I don't mind being here in the spare room. It's perfectly comfortable! I think it's just for the best. I believe it'll be easier." She gave a little nod of determination.

Sherlock sighed. "Miss Hooper, I had told you before it is no imposition, and therefore this is all a bit silly," he said gesturing around the room. "You needn't have bothered going to all this trouble when I must say that I disagree about this making anything easier."

Molly's expression hardened just a touch before she spoke again. "Perhaps you do not think so, but it is easier…for me."

"I hardly see how," Sherlock insisted. "What will you do in the morning? Come downstairs half dressed in order for me to assist you?"

Molly shook her head. "No no, that's not necessary. I won't be needing your assistance with my corset anymore."

Sherlock's brow shot up. "It's hardly an inconvenience. Why make the morning more difficult for yourself?"

"Because!" Molly's voice rose a bit and then she paused and took a breath. Her voice was more controlled once she continued. "Mr. Holmes, I cannot rely on your assistance forever. This is all very temporary in the grand scheme of things. The day will eventually come when I will not even be in the same building as you, and naturally I will be living alone. We will have completely separate and unconnected personal lives and I see no reason to make any future adjustment more difficult by…deluding ourselves till that day comes."

Sherlock knew he was wearing an expression of shock and confusion, but there was little he could do to change that. All he could think as he stared at her was, _but she said she loves me._ This all seemed so very contradictory to what he thought he knew. Why would she pull away like this?

He schooled his featured to a cool mask of indifference. "This is…how you would like things to stay then?" Sherlock asked, watching her expression a bit suspiciously.

Molly visibly hesitated, but then nodded and smiled. "Yes it is. It'll surely be easier this way," she repeated.

Sherlock said nothing at first. He walked past her to exit the room, but turned before leaving. "I shall bring up the desk and chair for you later today."

"Oh thank you," she said with a look of gratitude. "Don't trouble yourself to rush though. I'll be attending a lecture this afternoon at Bart's. And I'm hoping to observe in the operating theater this evening. I may not return until nightfall."

Sherlock nodded and gave her a brief smile. "Well then, enjoy your educational afternoon and evening, Miss Hooper. I find that I have things to attend to as well." He took his leave before she had much chance to say anything else.

As far as Sherlock was concerned, he had just acquired another case. This was a mystery that needed solving. But he realized he may require some help…from a more experienced source.

Sherlock rushed downstairs and washed up and changed as quickly as possible. He was out the door in less than ten minutes and hailing a carriage. It was time to get an expert opinion on this perplexing situation.

* * *

"Mrs. Watson!" Sherlock's voice boomed through the hallway and Mary Watson had to suppress a sigh.

The door of the hallway opened to let in a disgruntled looking Bessy, her fists balled up against her black maid's uniform as she walked just in front of the detective.

"Mr. Holmes, madam," Bessy said curtly.

"Yes, thank you, Bessy. Perhaps some tea is in order?" Mary told the maid with a kind smile before the girl curtsied and showed herself out.

Sherlock had already removed his coat and hat and thrown it carelessly across the chair.

"Not you house, Mr. Holmes!" Mary pointed out and the detective rolled his eyes momentarily before placing the items on the nearby coat rack.

"To what do I owe the pleasant visit?" Mary asked, noting her friend's agitated state. She might not have the mind of the great detective, but so much of his manner was revealing that this was likely to be a serious matter.

Sherlock paced in front of the fireplace for a few moments before turning to face her, pointing almost accusingly at her. "You are a woman!"

Mary's brow shot up and she pursed her lips. "Am I indeed? Do you know, I'd almost forgotten. I suppose that would offer a comfortingly logical explanation for all…this!" She gestured around her huge belly.

Sherlock sighed and invited himself inside the flat, making his way to the sitting room, but finally remembering his manners enough to offer the painfully pregnant woman an arm and some help into a chair.

"Mr. Holmes, what is all this about? Obviously something is troubling you."

"What I need," Sherlock announced as he paced the room. "Is the expert advice of a female mind."

"Ah ha!" Mary said, beginning to smile brightly. "Something tells me that this is to do with the lovely Mrs. Holmes."

Sherlock scoffed. "The lovely Mrs. Holmes has me more than a bit perplexed!"

The tea arrived and he sat down in the chair opposite Mary and began relating his observations from this morning after he'd awoken. He also related the conversation he'd had with Molly in the precise detail that he was so naturally capable of. He threw his hands up as he finished explaining the details. "What exactly am I supposed to take all this to mean?!"

Mary smiled sympathetically at him. "Mr. Holmes, your wife said more than once that this would make things easier _for her._ Can you not see what she was trying to tell you?"

"She is trying to keep her distance, but I hardly see how that is easier for her! Especially since I heard her say she-" Sherlock stopped himself, realizing that he was about to reveal something rather personal. But apparently he didn't have much to worry about.

"Are you confused because you know she's in love with you?" Mary asked gently, almost as if speaking to a child.

Sherlock shifted in his seat in some embarrassment. "I suppose I should hardly be surprised that this is no great news to you."

Mary sighed and leaned forward. "Mr. Holmes, my point is that what your wife has just done and said today does not conflict with what you understand her feelings to be. She has said that there will be an adjustment in the future, and that living like this now would make it easier. What does that tell you about how she views the future dissolution of your marriage?"

Sherlock looked down for a moment, pieces beginning to fit together. He swallowed thickly as he looked back at Mary. "It will hurt her," he said quietly.

Mary nodded. "Can you not see that both of you want the same thing?

Sherlock's eyes suddenly lit up and he lifted his hand to snap his fingers. "That's it! Yes, of course, how obvious!" he said excitedly and jumped from his seat.

"What is it?" Mary questioned as she looked on in confusion.

"It's so very simple! All I have to do it tell her that we needn't divorce!"

"Yes!" Mary exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she clapped her hands together.

"I'll tell her that there's no need to alter things, now or in the future! We can be free to stay as we are, and there's no need for any deadline or end to the existing arrangement!"

Mary frowned. "Wait a moment…no need to alter things?"

"Yes, exactly," Sherlock said, making his way to the doorway. "I shall tell her right away, and then perhaps she will be comfortable returning to our life as it was before!"

"Sherlock Holmes!" Mary thundered suddenly, making him turn to look at her in shock. "You will do nothing of the sort! You will sit back down in this chair and listen to me very carefully, or so help me I will come after you and slap the sense into you, pregnant belly and all!"

The stunned detective slowly retreated back to the chair and looked nervously at his friend who seemed to be practically steaming. "Not acceptable?" he asked quietly.

Mary took a cleansing breath. "No, not acceptable, I'm afraid. Mr. Holmes, please understand that although I know you wish to keep your life with Mrs. Holmes intact, I'm afraid that this is a situation that can be remedied with only one extreme or another."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

Mary's expression became a bit somber, understanding the weight of what she was about to say. "There are only two options in the situation you find yourself in, that is, if you care at all about protecting Mrs. Holmes' heart. You can ask her to stay on as your wife, and stay forever…but only if you are prepared to commit yourself to her as her husband and admit to her that you love her as deeply as she loves you."

Sherlock opened his mouth, his knee jerk reaction to object to the sentiment in some way, but Mary cut him off by putting her hand up and then finished her thought.

"If that is unacceptable to you, then your only alternative is the other extreme. And that is to stick to the plan that was originally laid out and maintain a _business only_ relationship between the two of you for the remainder of your union. It is the only kind and honorable thing to do if you are not willing to give her your heart. Anything less, anything halfway, will only cause her pain. And I know that despite your moments of tactless and ill-mannered speech…you are not a man that wishes to cause pain, least of all to that lovely woman."

He was a bit dumbfounded after Mary's speech. Mostly because he knew she was right. Once she'd said it, put it that plainly, he knew that those really were his only two possible courses. And his heart sank, because to him both those paths seemed filled with fear and uncertainty. It was so much easier and more comfortable to hover somewhere in between. Blast Mary's logic and good sense, coming in and complicating things…

"So, Mr. Holmes," Mary added. "I suppose the question is, do you love your wife?"

Sherlock's eyes lifted to look into hers, and he knew that his silence was as much a deafening answer as words ever could be. But the look in his eyes told her more than one thing.

Mary nodded slowly. "Perhaps the question of whether or not you love her is not truly the one that matters. I suppose what will really decide your fate is whether you have the courage to dive in completely; to let yourself fall and trust that you'll both end up happy."

"How can I jump?" Sherlock asked sadly. "How can I take such a risk when I can't see where I'd land?"

Mary reached over and took Sherlock's hand, smiling gently at her friend. "Because she's already down there," she said softly. "And she'd catch you."

* * *

For the following two weeks, Sherlock and Molly lived as barely flat mates. They didn't share in any activities together. No meals, chats by the fire, experiments, or working out cases together. And certainly no more friendly assistance with wardrobe!

In those two weeks, Sherlock had hardly slept at all, and not just because of the short length of the couch. Sherlock knew Mary was right, and he knew he had to come to a decision. But it was a possibly life changing decision, and therefore he had to be sure it was the right one before he took any further steps. He realized that this could be a good test, to go along with Molly's new arrangement and see how it felt. Test to see if he could live like this…without Molly as his wife.

Sherlock was miserable.

He knew he'd been content with how things were before. But he also didn't realize how much of a void would be created simply from losing those little moments during his day. He was surprised by how much he missed some things.

Sherlock certainly didn't think that helping Molly dress had ever meant a great deal to him, but since he'd stopped doing that, the smell of her lavender soap every time he entered the washroom was like a very personalized form of torture. He remembered every little detail of those morning routines, and the thought of never being able to touch her skin again was a far greater loss than he liked to admit. And then his mind would wander, questioning whether such a thing was troubling to her as well. Did Molly grieve the loss of his touch, even in those brief and chaste moments? He found himself praying to whatever deity existed that she felt these things just as keenly as he did.

Sherlock was almost blindly mixing some random substances together in an attempt to distract himself when she walked in that evening, looking almost surprised to see him.

"Oh hello," Molly said with a quick smile. "Experimenting I see." She set a textbook down and went for the kettle.

"Mm," Sherlock answered, watching her covertly as she began preparing tea. It sounded rather good right now…especially if she would join him.

"Would you like some?"

"Yes!" he answered, realizing he sounded a bit too suddenly enthusiastic.

"Um, alright. Well I'll just leave the pot for you. I think I'll take my cup upstairs and keep on studying, seeing as I'm moving along nicely."

Sherlock clenched his jaw. Yet another opportunity gone. And yet, he knew that all he'd need to do is to open his mouth and speak the necessary words. He had it in his power to bring them back together.

"Mr. Holmes, I've been thinking about our arrangement."

 _Oh thank God,_ he thought. Could it be that she would be the one to broach the conversation? What a relief that would be!

"You see, I was considering the timing we'd originally discussed, and I thought perhaps we should revisit that."

"Timing?" Now he was genuinely confused.

"Well, I know we had originally discussed dissolving the marriage when I'd finished medical school," she said, looking a bit nervous as she set the teacups on the table. "But do you think it's truly necessary to wait that long?"

Sherlock frowned. Perhaps this was not the conversation he'd hoped it would be. "W-what are you suggesting?"

Molly's brow furrowed a bit as well, and she paused. "I just um, I couldn't help but think that a bit sooner couldn't hurt. What would be the harm in beginning the process some months before my schooling is complete? I cannot imagine that it would change anything by that point. Surely it would be too late to negatively impact the outcome of my education."

Sherlock tried to control his expression and not outwardly display his horror at this suggestion. Now she wanted the whole thing to end even sooner than planned? Yes, Mary was obviously correct. Molly was still trying to reduce the future pain. The trouble was that this would not end the pain that either of them was feeling, and he was beginning to realize that more and more clearly.

"Miss Hooper, I..." Sherlock paused and set aside the chemical concoction he was currently holding. "I also believe it is necessary for us to revisit the particulars of our arrangement."

"Oh," she chirped, but looked obviously hesitant. "And which particulars were you referring to?"

Sherlock took off the gloves that he was wearing as he heaved a sigh. It was a sigh of acceptance, because he was finally ready to end this…and hopefully to begin anew.

He crossed to the other side of the table, closer to where she was standing. " _All_ the particulars, Miss Hooper," he said softly.

Molly regarded him with careful scrutiny, and then she very gratefully went to retrieve the kettle once the water began to boil. "I…I can't think how much can be altered," she said nervously. "I believe most things are best left as they are." She came back over with the kettle and poured the water into the pot.

Sherlock was silent for a moment as he watched her pour and then add the tea to the water. Finally, he spoke again.

"Molly," he said, making her eyes snap to his at the use of her given name. "Can you tell me that you are truly happy as we are?"

He could see her breaths coming faster and that she looked as if she were staring down the barrel of a gun. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was obviously afraid to say how she really felt. And clearly that was because she didn't want to get hurt.

Sherlock was through with this, and he didn't want to make her feel this way anymore. It was ridiculous, really. A childish game that he was willing to be the one to end. In fact, he wondered if he may as well just start by stepping forward and taking this lovely little woman into his arms and-

The pounding on the door made them both turn their heads toward the sound. Sherlock heaved a sigh of frustration at the timing, but decided there was no ignoring the distressed knock of a visitor.

When he marched over and flung the door open, he was surprised to see a rather winded Billy Wiggins standing before him.

"It's time, Mr. 'Olmes! Best get the missus. The baby…baby Watson's comin!"

Sherlock didn't even have to answer. Molly had heard and was already bolting past them up the steps to get her kit. And just like that, the tea and the weighty words that hung unspoken in the air were forgotten.

Within five minutes, they were in a carriage and off to the Watson's flat.

* * *

A very flustered and disheveled looking John opened the door with barely a "hello," and then ushered Molly straight upstairs. Sherlock followed, not waiting for an invitation, and the three of them were greeted by the sound of low groans in the Watson's bedroom.

"Oh, Molly! Oh thank God!" Mary exclaimed as John let her in.

"She's doing rather well so far," John began rattling off quickly as Molly rushed over to greet the woman of the hour. "Contractions are coming about every eight minutes. I believe the baby is still head down, so there's no trouble there. We're working on walking the room right now to speed up the progress, and I'd expect that we could get to pushing in another two to three hours if we're fortunate."

"Oh shut it, John!" Mary said as she leaned on the end of the bed. "I love you more than life itself, but I swear if you do not get out of this room and stop the official medical report, you may not live to see your first born child!"

Molly gave the wide eyed John Watson a kind smile as she rubbed Mary's back. "Um, would you be so very helpful and mind popping down to the kitchen and getting a nice basin of water to soak these rags? I think Mary could do with some cool cloths on her forehead right now."

Sherlock was barely peeking around the corner, but he wisely gave his friend a pat on the back. "Shall I assist with that basin?"

"Y-yeah yeah, right," John mumbled and managed to turn and exit the room.

Once the men had left and shut the door, Mary sighed and laughed. "I'm sorry, but he's being the most infuriating combination of a nervous father to be and a Doctor!Goodness, I couldn't stand it one more minute!"

"It's alright," Molly answered, laughing as well. "I'm here now, and I'm neither nervous nor a doctor. So I believe we are about to get on quite well!"

"That is true music to my ears!"

"But you probably won't be too pleased to hear that I'd like to examine you just to start. After that I promise I won't bother you for a while. Shall I help you onto the bed?"

"Yes please," Mary groaned, but halfway onto the bed she had to stop while another contraction gripped her body.

Molly rubbed her back and spoke soothingly as Mary held onto her for support. "Shh, you're doing just fine, it'll be done in a moment."

Finally, Mary sighed in exhaustion from the small battle she'd just fought and was able to climb fully onto the bed and lay down. "I think that one was closer to the last one than before. But I still have a bad feeling that this is about to be a very long night," she said in a tone of despair.

"Don't you worry yourself about that," Molly said, looking up from the bottom of the bed. "I'll be here till you're all done and relaxing here with your new little son or daughter…no matter how long it takes, we'll get this done together."

Mary looked down and gave her a watery smile. "Thank God for you," she said and then let her head fall back comfortably against the pillow. A moment later, out of the blue she added through clenched teeth, "Sherlock Holmes is a blasted fool!"

Molly wasn't sure exactly what that had to do with anything, but she also knew better than to question the rantings of a woman in the throes of labor.

A few minutes later, John came sheepishly in with the basin of water. Molly smiled and took it from his hands and then he cautiously approached Mary where she sat at the edge of the bed.

"Mary darling, I just want to help. What can I do?" He was obviously trying to be gentle and understanding.

Mary reached over and grasped his hand, bringing it to her lips for a kiss. "I love you, and I know you'd like to help. But I need Mrs. Holmes for this, alright? I know I can do this with her help. Don't forget how brilliant Mr. Holmes has said she is." She winked at Molly briefly.

John nodded. "I'll um, I'll just wait downstairs then?"

"Yes," Mary said with a smile. "And I feel sure you men can find something interesting to pass the time discussing."

John looked over at Molly and she gave him a comforting smile. This prompted him to finally kiss Mary on the forehead and take his leave, appearing satisfied that his wife was indeed in good hands.

As John left, Molly caught Sherlock's eye outside the door. He smiled at her and gave her a little nod, which she returned. It seemed to Molly that he understood exactly what he needed to do. It was time to distract John Watson and keep him as sane as possible for as long as this process was going to take. Sherlock put a hand on his friend's shoulder and once again went to lead him downstairs. As the two men left, the Watson's maid came in with a cup of tea for Molly and a few extra clean rags.

Molly turned away again and stuck some of the rags in the water as she glanced up at the stars that were just beginning to peek out in the darkening sky. She closed her eyes for just a moment and hoped that by this time tomorrow, all their lives would be just a bit different…in the very best sort of way.


	14. Chapter 14

John Watson sighed loudly for about the fifteenth time. He walked the length of the small sitting room and stopped at the window, as he'd already done numerous times over the past hour. And he continued to jump every time Mary's cries echoed down the stairs.

"Are you not supposed to be keeping me distracted?" John spun around to ask from where he stood at the window.

Sherlock turned another page in the book he held. "Well I've been trying to find topics to discuss in this Obstetrics textbook in your medical library, but thus far I've only encountered things that would likely make you worry more."

John ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "Perhaps you should start by putting down the book on Obstetrics? Can't we talk about something unrelated?!"

Sherlock set the book down on the table and rolled his eyes. "Forgive me for attempting to educate myself." Sherlock got up and paced slowly to the other window in the Watson's sitting room. "And what would you prefer to discuss?"

John shrugged. "Surely you must have something going right now…some case or…" He paused and then dropped his voice a bit. "Or perhaps you'd like to share how things are going at present with you and your wife?"

Sherlock snorted out a laugh as he looked over at his friend. "I see that Mary spoke to you."

"Well, you can hardly blame her." John couldn't help chuckling. "I was sorry to have missed that visit of yours!"

"Oh yes, it is all so _terribly_ amusing!"

"Oh, come now, Holmes!" John said to his now pouty friend. "You know that I think this is all marvelous. I'm not poking fun. It's just…well it is rather enjoyable to see."

"There's nothing to see yet," Sherlock said a bit glumly. "We are still as we were when I came to speak to Mary. No popping champagne yet."

"Why ever haven't you said anything?" John asked, though he took a moment to gaze worriedly upstairs at the sound of Mary crying out again.

"This is not a decision I'm taking lightly, Watson. I needed time to think, to weigh the possibilities. I felt that I should continue keeping my distance until I was sure."

John paused. "And?"

Sherlock paused as well before he finally answered softly. "And I can't imagine living if I lost her."

"Holmes…" John spoke his friend's name as a sort of exclamation of wonder.

"I don't think I can go back now. I can't imagine going through with our plan as we'd originally intended and simply parting ways after a time, as if none of this had ever happened. And I can't in a million years imagine standing back and watching if she moved on to marry another man. The very thought makes me ill," he said with a visible look of disgust. "I find that I…I simply do not know how I would manage if it all came to an end."

"Oh, Holmes," John said with a smile as he walked over to give Sherlock a pat on the back. "Even someone as clever as you seems to be missing the simplest of solutions."

"Have I?" Sherlock asked, turning to look him in the eyes.

"Indeed." John started back at him, his gaze unwavering and serious. " _Don't end it."_

There was a moment of silence as the two of them looked at each other, barely blinking. Finally Sherlock drew a breath and looked away, nodding slowly. "Yes, Watson…I know. And then I suppose I can only hope not to make a mess of it all. What if I don't know how to be a good husband?"

"Ah, I wouldn't trouble yourself over that," John said casually. "Welcome to married life, Sherlock Holmes! We all make a mess of things from time to time, and our wives are naturally the first to notice. So you will hardly be alone there! Also, you seem to forget: you already know how to be a good husband. You've been a husband for many weeks now, in almost all necessary ways, and you've both been happy. There is probably a precious few things that would need adjusting…though one or two changes will make quite an impact."

Sherlock frowned at his friend. "Somehow I manage to deduce what you're referring to."

John cringed again from the sounds that came from upstairs, and he rubbed his face with his hands. "And what I am referring to may well put you in the very place I am in before too long!" He groaned. "Oh, God help me, I can't bear to hear her suffer much longer."

Sherlock glanced in the direction of the stairs as he put a hand on John's shoulder. "Take heart, Watson, she is the best hands…perhaps it will not be too much longer…"

* * *

"Not much longer, Mary! Come on, you can do this, I know you can!" Molly said with a supportive smile up at the sweaty and exhausted woman of the hour.

Mary's head fell back against the pillow. "I can't! This baby is going to be stuck in there forever!" she moaned.

"Trust me, that is one thing I can promise you won't happen," Molly said with a laugh. "This baby is coming one way or another, but it will be a lot quicker if you help things along. So give us another big push, alright?"

Mary soon began groaning again with another contraction and was compelled to get back into pushing, whether she liked it or not.

"Well done, Mary!" Molly said excitedly. "I think soon we'll be seeing your little baby's head!"

Mary gave her answer in the form of a quiet sob. "John had better appreciate how much I'm suffering for our child!"

* * *

"I can't imagine what she's going through," John murmured, shaking his head solemnly about a half hour later. "Of course, as a doctor, I know what it is, but nevertheless…"

"No, you cannot," Sherlock answered casually. "And for your own safety it's probably best to assume it's far more difficult than anything you've ever done. Certainly never attempt to compare!"

"Would you look at that," John said, smirking at him. "You're already thinking like a family man."

"Please," Sherlock said with a snort. "That's simply common sense!"

After a moment of silence, John cleared his throat. "Could you um, ever see yourself…you know, perhaps starting a family?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment as he set the paper down in his lap. "I can't say for certain…though the entire process does fascinate me, as a man of science. I would not rule it out completely, should things…progress." He lifted the paper again and it blocked the view to his face.

Suddenly, the hollering from upstairs became significantly worse and even Sherlock felt a sick feeling in his gut at the sound. He attempted to distract the now especially horrified John Watson.

"Did you and Mrs. Watson discuss names?"

John could barely tear his gaze from the direction of the stairs, looking like he anticipated a gunman to descend at any moment. "I uh…we did, yes. I quite liked Harry if it's a boy, and we were thinking of Elizabeth for a girl. That's Mary's middle name, so it would be a nice fit."

"Hm," Sherlock said with a little shrug of his shoulders.

John cracked a smile. "Not impressive choices I take it?"

"There are other names of course…strong names…unique names…" Sherlock gave his friend a sneaky smile.

"No, Holmes, we are not naming our child after you," he said with a laugh, grateful to have the entertainment. Though, he would not be distracted for long.

Another fifteen minutes later, things became eerily silent on the second floor of the Watson's flat. Sherlock and John looked at each other and they both hurried out of their seats to go stand at the bottom of the stairs. For what seemed like an eternity, they listened and waited…

And then came the loveliest little cry that either of the two men had ever been privileged to hear.

John grabbed Sherlock's arm as his grin spread, and then they both wasted no time in bolting up the stairs. The maid stepped out of the bedroom just as they approached and she grinned.

"I was just coming to fetch you, Dr. Watson, but it seems you're too quick for me!"

"May I see them?" John asked excitedly.

Molly opened the door then and stepped out. She was just removing the apron she'd been wearing and she gave the two men a tired but gleeful smile. "Come on in, Dr. Watson. I believe your wife would like to introduce you to your daughter."

Sherlock's eyes were glued to Molly, amazed at the kind of feat that she'd just accomplished. Or, at the very least, assisted with. She looked exhausted, a bit of a mess…and absolutely breathtaking.

Sherlock hung back as John entered the bedroom with Molly, but a moment later he heard Mary's voice from inside.

"It's alright, Mr. Holmes, you can step in too if you'd like!"

He didn't have to be asked twice. Sherlock walked in the room where Mary was now tucked comfortably under a blanket and holding a little bundle that John was happily gazing at.

"You can come see her," Mary said, seeing how Sherlock was still lingering at the door. So he advanced closer.

The baby's puffy and rather scrunched up face peeked out from the blankets and Sherlock peered down to examine her face more closely.

"I do hope I'm not expected to exclaim about how much of a resemblance there is right now," Sherlock said with a smirk at the new parents.

"I wouldn't be surprised if there was!" Mary said with a laugh. "She and I have both been through quite a lot, and I think we're both in desperate need of some beauty rest."

"I disagree," John said softly. "I've never seen anything so beautiful as the both of you."

Mary's chin quivered a bit and she leaned forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek.

Simultaneously, Sherlock and Molly turned and caught each other's eye, locked together for just a moment. Finally, Molly cleared her throat and remembered herself.

"Well, um, I think we'd better get the little Miss Watson to have something to eat now. Perhaps we could clear the room a bit?"

"I believe that means me," Sherlock said with a smile at the three Watson's on the bed. "Congratulations…to all of you."

"Thank you, Holmes, for being here," John said with a grateful smile.

Sherlock nodded and then quickly exited the room. He went downstairs and lingered in the sitting room, thumbing through some of Watson's textbooks and staring out the window into the darkened streets. It was now after midnight and there was little or no sign of life to be found outside. It was almost an hour before he finally heard footsteps descending the steps.

Molly puffed out a heavy breath as she walked over to stand in the doorway. "Well, I'll need to pop in tomorrow and be sure things are still going smoothly since Doctor Watson knows what to do, but I believe my work here is finally done for now! Elizabeth had a bit to eat and is now sleeping peacefully. Hopefully Mary will be able to do the same."

Sherlock strolled over to join her with a soft smile. "I'm not sure this night would have gone so very well had you not been here."

"It's all the strength of the mother, really," Molly said with a little laugh as she grabbed her wrap off the stand by the door. "I do little else but give verbal encouragement."

"And apparently it did just the trick. Come along…let's go home." Sherlock placed a gentle hand on back and led her out the door.

* * *

The poor exhausted Holmeses had to walk for more than ten minutes trying to find a carriage at that hour of the night. Once they finally did and took the ride back to Baker Street, it was nearing one in the morning. By the time they got inside the building, it was all Molly could do to make her feet take one step after another to get up to 221B.

Molly walked into the flat with Sherlock and tossed her shawl on the couch, not caring about being tidy at the moment. She all but shoved her shoes off, managing to unbuckle the bare minimum of buttons as she tossed them aside, twisting her torso from side to side a bit, feeling the aches of the more physical part of her job tonight.

"Take my bed." Sherlock's voice made her whirl around.

"Pardon?"

"You've had an incredibly taxing night and my bed is far more comfortable than the spare," Sherlock stated as he threw his suit jacket off and removed his neck tie.

"No, really, I'm perfectly comfortable with-"

"Miss Hooper, I have to insist on this occasion," Sherlock said firmly, effectively cutting her off.

Molly let out a little sigh of surrender. "Alright, thank you," she said softly.

After she'd washed up a bit and had gotten her nightdress from upstairs, she headed to Sherlock's bedroom. When she walked in, he was just beginning to work on the top buttons of his dress shirt. Molly had to admit that she'd missed these strangely normal moments between them at bedtime.

"Forgive me, I was just readying myself before you came in."

"No, it's fine," Molly said with a smile, placing her nightdress on the bed. "I'll just um, get ready as well."

There were a few moments of silence then, each facing the opposite way, or at least that's what Molly assumed. But Sherlock must have looked at her. He must have seen how stiff she obviously felt and how much of a chore it was even to remove the layers above her corset.

She didn't realize that he'd approached, but was prompted to turn at the sudden sound of Sherlock clearing his throat not far behind her.

He looked at her almost as a child who desperately hoped to gain approval. "May I…help?" he asked very softly.

Molly almost said no. She almost waved him away, reminding him that this wasn't how they were to do things anymore and that she wasn't about to slide into all their old habits in one night…but she didn't. She looked into those stormy eyes and knew that she wanted the help tonight, no…needed the help.

All she did was nod and turn her back to him again, giving silent permission for his assistance. There was a pause though, before he began. When looking back, Molly would think of that moment as the calm before the storm. Because the moment that Sherlock stepped up to her back and placed a hand on the laces of her corset, she was sure that there was something very new and very different happening.

Molly was almost positive that he was standing closer than he typically had in the past based on the light scent of his soap and the soft breathing she could hear as his fingers began moving, hesitating many times, as if he were nervous. She shut her eyes for a moment as he wrapped one hand around her waist while tugging some of the laces free with his other hand.

Despite her fatigue, she began to feel restless, like she couldn't just stand there with idle hands, so she reached up and began removing some of the pins from her hair. Strands fell, bit by bit, and by the time half her hair was half down, Sherlock seemed to be almost through loosening the corset. She actually heard him swallow thickly behind her as his fingers tugged out the remainder of the pressure caused by the laces. This was the moment when he typically stepped away.

This time, he didn't.

Molly knew he was still standing there, but wasn't quite sure what to say or do, so she began unhooking the clasps in the front of the corset as usual, all the while feeling her pulse race. When the clasps were all unhooked and she removed the garment from her middle, Sherlock caught it from her hands and laid it aside for her, still standing unmoved behind her. And now the stillness set in again, a pause before the next step.

The next things Molly felt was Sherlock very gently placing his hands on her shoulders as she heard him slowly exhale, as if he'd been holding his breath till that moment. Molly's breath, on the other hand, was completely caught in her throat as she felt Sherlock take one more step closer, now completely closing the distance between them. She felt his head drop a bit, and could now feel his breath against her hair.

A million things ran through Molly's head, a million feelings and a million possible options. One thing she knew for certain, she was done standing there and doing nothing. Whatever this was, whatever he was doing, she wasn't about to let him do it alone. She considered turning, or perhaps reaching up and taking his hands. But finally, in a sense, she simply decided to let herself go…and she leaned back against Sherlock's chest.

It seemed as if Sherlock had been waiting for something, some sort of sign from her. Because once Molly had leaned her weight into him, his hands slid down her arms till his fingers could link with hers, and then he wrapped their connected arms around her middle, holding her blissfully close. He dropped his face till his lips gently rested in the crook of her neck, making Molly suck in a little breath.

Sherlock lifted his head again, his mouth near her ear. "Molly…" That was all he said, the man of so many eloquent and brilliant words. But there was no need for him to say much else. That was enough to make her turn her head toward his and make her own invitation more than clear.

He still seemed a bit hesitant as he leaned down, almost like he couldn't stop checking her expression for any possible sign of unwillingness. But there was none to be found of course, and Molly couldn't help but smile at his caution. She lifted herself up, just a touch onto her toes, helping him close the rest of the distance.

For the very first brief moment that their lips connected, Molly was taken back to her memories of the chaste and obligatory little kiss they shared in the church on their wedding day. But that was blocked out very quickly, soon overtaken by an experience that was in a world entirely its own.

When Sherlock's lips parted, her's instinctively did as well, and then the connection became so much more than the brush of one person's mouth on another's. This was a bond that was nothing short of all consuming and mild altering. The action and reaction, touch and taste, pressure and pull, and the give and take. This was what poems were written about, songs were sung about, and battles were fought over. _This_ was what it meant to kiss, and to be kissed.

Molly turned as Sherlock let go of her hands, both in silent agreement about wanting to face each other but struggling a bit seeing as they were unwilling to break the kiss in order to shift anything. But finally, Molly was fully turned and able to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him close as Sherlock's arms did the same around her waist. He stumbled back a touch, colliding with the bed just enough to make him lose balance and almost topple over. Sherlock placed his hand on the bed, preventing a fall, but this was enough to finally separate their lips and instead connect their eyes.

They stared at each other, both of them breathing heavily, pupils blown wide, and lips swollen. Molly's hands were frozen, fingers buried in Sherlock's now very rumpled hair. She swallowed hard and briefly glanced behind him at the bed before returning her gaze.

"You can stay," she heard herself say, surprised that it was actually out loud.

Sherlock frowned momentarily, seemingly deciphering her expression and suggestion. But he didn't waste much time hesitating before bringing his hands up to cup her face as he continued kissing her hungrily while climbing up onto the bed, leading her along with him.

Even in her passion induced haze, Molly was hit with a bit of reality as she alternated between heated kisses and getting herself tucked under the covers alongside Sherlock Holmes. Exactly what was she planning to do right now? What did she truly want to do?

That was why it was a bit of a relief, albeit a bit shocking, when Sherlock pulled away from her lips to look into her eyes again. He swallowed thickly and shut his eyes for a moment, frowning as if fighting an internal war. When he opened his eyes again, he whispered, "Sleep, Molly...just sleep."

Molly was naturally still torn, still considering diving into a kiss again before either of them could voice another word of reason. But she ended up nodding in agreement, and somehow contentedly accepted the resting place against his chest with his arm securely around her shoulders. It was definitely what she needed, despite her still simmering desire, because the moment she let her eyelids close, she remembered how absolutely dead tired she truly was…

* * *

Molly's fingers tapped nervously on the kitchen table as she waited for the tea to steep. She wondered if her heart had stopped pounding at all since late last night. She heaved a sigh, again replaying the details of what they'd done…and then reminding herself of what they'd almost done. In the light of day, the cloud of emotions having lifted, Molly was left with a horrible sense of self-doubt. Not only doubt about whether she had done the right thing, but also doubt that Sherlock had been acting in his right mind. It certainly wasn't something she expected him to do until that very moment!

She was still lost in thought when she felt strong warm hands slide around her waist and a deep voice speak near her ear, making her jump a little.

"Good morning, Mrs. Holmes."

"I uh- yes, um, good morning," she replied, turning to smile briefly, but not long enough to give him access to her lips again.

That didn't completely discourage him though, seeing as he leaned down and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the side of her neck.

Molly let out an involuntary little yelp, partly from nerves and surprise, and also from the delicious jolt of electricity it sent coursing through her. Her yelp succeeded in making Sherlock instantly step away and look at her with concern.

"Forgive me, I…I didn't mean to startle you," he said sheepishly.

Molly cleared her throat and tucked some hair behind her ear. "Mr. Holmes, um, forgive me but…what is this?"

Sherlock's gaze shifted back and forth and he looked a bit confused. "Well I believe you were present and involved last night. So I would venture to say that this is something rather similar to those pleasurable activities."

"Yes, but, well what I mean to say is what is _all_ of this? Including last night!" She crossed her arms over his middle and stared at him, desperately seeking logic. "Why did you do it?"

A smile began to spread on Sherlock's lips and he stepped forward. He took the hands that were folded up over her torso and held them in his. "Because I very much wanted to," he whispered. "And I want you."

Molly's face remained crumpled in concern and question. Her mind raced as she compared the heat of last night to the cold truth of the documents she knew were still sitting in the next room. She needed to think, to pull together all the facts and not be distracted by the sincerity she was seeing in her husband's face before her. She squeezed his hands for a second, but then let them fall. She turned and quickly grabbed the teapot, hurriedly pouring some into a cup for herself. She then rushed over to grab her shawl.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock questioned, looking a touch injured.

"I um, I've got to go back over and check on Mary," she answered, coming back to quickly take a couple sips of her tea.

"Watson is a doctor, surely his wife and baby are in good hands," Sherlock said with a little chuckle.

"But I said I'd go back today and I think it's the right thing to do."

"Yes, but-"

"I won't be long of course."

"Molly, can't you at least just-"

"Sherlock!"

They stared at each other as Molly now stood poised to leave at the door and Sherlock looked on desperately in his dressing gown and bare feet.

Molly relaxed her voice again. "I'll be back by noon. Forgive me, but I just need to go…and I need to think." She smiled, perhaps a bit apologetically, at her speechless wide eyed husband. And before he could object again, she took her leave.

For all her cool exterior though, the second she walked out, she discarded her shawl on the hook outside the door and began desperately fanning her face as she descended the stairs. She grumbled confused and frustrated words all the way outside and hoped that nobody would notice how red in the face she was. Whatever his reason for doing so, heaven help her if Sherlock Holmes kept kissing her like that.

She'd soon be a puddle on the floor.


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock was currently on the floor. He was on the floor in the middle of a large room in his mind palace and he'd dragged just about every scrap of Molly Hooper information that he could carry with him. It was now spread out haphazardly around him and he figured the only thing he could do was to begin sorting through and organizing it all. He cursed himself as he began picking one thing up after another and realizing that he'd accumulated so very much about her over the years…but he'd been terribly remiss in keeping it in any logical order.

Obviously this was a huge misstep, given his current situation.

His frustration grew by the moment, because it seemed to him that the more he uncovered, the less sense all of this made. She'd displayed nothing by devotion to him over the years, in friendship and beyond. It was difficult for him to discern how that could now fit with her sudden unwillingness to accept his affection.

He wanted her! He told her that he did! So where was his error? He was searching everywhere, and somehow he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Sherlock's head shot up and eyes popped open as the door to 221B unlocked. Molly burst through rather rapidly and threw her bag down, then marched over to where Sherlock sat by the fire.

"Listen, I've done some thinking," she blurted out while taking a seat in John's old chair. "And I believe that I know precisely what's bothering me about…us."

Sherlock raised one brow and sat up, leaning forward as his interest piqued. "I'm listening."

"You see," Molly began and then drew a breath. "I thought about this…all of it. And what I realized is that we've gone about it all so very…backwards. I think that's one of the reasons that this morning everything felt so very sudden."

"Molly, please understand that this has been coming on gradually for quite some time," Sherlock said sincerely. "It is not nearly as sudden as you may imagine."

Molly shrugged. "That may very well be true, but it doesn't change the fact that it _feels_ sudden to me," she said gesturing to herself. "I haven't been privy to the inner workings of your mind all these days and weeks, so to me it felt like the man who planned to leave me suddenly telling me he doesn't want to end our arrangement and instead wanted nothing but to kiss me! Can't you see how that would have completely baffled me?"

Sherlock couldn't help a devilish look at his wife. "Baffled didn't seem to be the dominant emotion last night…"

Molly's cheeks flushed instantly. "I was- that is to say- I am not claiming the experience was at all unpleasant…quite the opposite actually. But I couldn't help but think more deeply on the subject by this morning and I began to question that you-"

"Question?" Sherlock asked, unable to stomach the sound of the word. His eyes became big sad saucers instantly as he stared back at Molly. "Are you…are you saying that you do not…believe me?"

Molly was obviously moved. She leaned forward and took his hand. "Mr. Holmes, belief is not the problem. I believe that you have romantic feelings of some sort for me. But there's a difference between believing something and _having faith_ in it. Faith requires time and accumulated evidence of some kind. It cannot and does not happen overnight!"

Sherlock found that he couldn't argue with that logic. He supposed she was looking at this from an attractively scientific point of view.

"Now, I do not have to wonder why I wanted what I did last night," Molly went on. "Because from the first moment that I knew of such an expression existing between a man and woman, I wanted that with you! I have always wanted you, Sherlock Holmes…I've always been in love with you."

Sherlock felt that familiar warmth spread through his chest, the kind that she'd taught him to expect and enjoy over these many weeks. But again, he realized that she was right. Perhaps he'd been feeling that sort of thing for her all this time…but she'd never known anything of that. She truly was lacking the acquired evidence.

"And so…you want to test the theory?" Sherlock asked.

Molly nodded. "Yes. I want to trust in what you feel for me. I want to know that you love me in the same way I love you."

Sherlock paused, looking off in the distance for a moment. He looked back at Molly and the corner of his lips ticked up a bit in an almost surprised smile. "Molly, I do."

She smiled and her cheeks got pink again at the sound of his words. "Then show me…prove it to me and make me believe it beyond a shadow of a doubt," she whispered.

Sherlock got that same sneaky look in his eyes and he stood from his chair, taking her hands and gently pulling her to stand with him. "Molly Holmes," he practically purred. "If you give me enough time, I promise that your faith in what I feel for you will soon be absolutely _unshakable._ " He grasped her face and began to lower his lips to hers, but just as he made contact…she pulled away again. Sherlock's jaw dropped. Now what had he done?

"Y-yes, I want that too. I mean to say, I want you to take some time and give me that confidence in us. But um…I believe I had something a bit different in mind." She looked at him nervously.

Sherlock's brow furrowed a bit and he took his hands off her face, realizing he'd need to hear her out. "What exactly were you envisioning?"

"Well," Molly began brightly, obviously trying to make the idea sound as appealing as possible. "I had said that we did things backwards, so I was thinking that it would be so lovely if we could sort of…undo that, and go back in time a bit."

The furrow on Sherlock's brow deepened and he blinked in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Think about it!" Molly said as she stepped away from Sherlock and walked about the room while gesturing excitedly. "If you'd fallen in love with me some months ago when we were just friends, what would you have done?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. "I would have proposed…"

"No no, before that," Molly prompted.

"Told you…" Sherlock was struggling terribly. He really was no natural Romeo. "How I felt?"

Molly laughed a little at his inability to think like a normal gentleman. "You would have courted me of course!"

Sherlock made a little silent 'ah' with his mouth. "Yes well, we can't literally erase all that's already happened."

"Yes indeed, but I thought that perhaps we could try something despite all that. We could call it perhaps…married courtship!"

Sherlock's brows shot up. "Rather an oxymoron, wouldn't you say?"

Molly shrugged. "That's alright, what does it matter? It may be unconventional, but at least it will give us something we didn't really get to have before."

He nodded. "And courtship would simply entail…spending time together, correct?"

"Exactly!" Molly said happily. "We spend time together, we do nice things for each other, we learn as much as we can, and we try to show how we feel for the other person."

Sherlock closed the distance between them again. "I am very much up to the task, I assure you. And I look forward to showing you exactly how I feel for you."

"But!" Molly added. "I think that our married courtship should mimic the standards of real courtship. Meaning…no intimacies." She smiled sweetly.

If Sherlock Holmes had been told a few weeks prior that intimacies of any kind were off limits, he would have asked why such a thing even need be voiced, for those things were of no consequence to him! But now, when he'd finally realized that he was desperately in love with his own _wife_ …well, this was a rather heavy blow.

"I...I see," he said quietly, looking a bit injured again.

"It's only temporary," Molly hurried to clarify. "I just feel that this is something we should experience for a little while. The time to spend learning about and sharing our feelings for one another and even the time to…anticipate what we'll enjoy later," she said with an embarrassed little smile.

Sherlock grinned in definite agreement. "So, what would you suggest from here forward then?"

"Well, um…" Molly twiddled her thumbs as she thought. "We can have some walks, we can do experiments here in the kitchen, have meals together, you can help me study for the start of the autumn classes, and I can certainly still listen to your cases. Just nothing too…close."

He nodded and approached, reaching out his hand. Molly placed hers in it a bit hesitantly.

"Well then, Molly Holmes, I would like you to know that I intend to court you." Sherlock lifted her hand and placed a quick kiss on it before letting it go again.

"I am very glad to hear it," Molly said with a pleased smile and an attractive blush on her cheeks.

She soon made her way into the kitchen and announced that she was going to start some tea and make sandwiches for lunch as Sherlock picked up his violin and began playing a bit. He couldn't help but think that his violin would have to provide quite a bit of solace in the days to come. He was likely going to have to talk to John Watson again and get advice from him. Not only in how best to court a woman properly, but also how to make the process move along as swiftly as possible!

"Oh and Mr. Holmes," Molly called from the kitchen, making Sherlock turn and look at her. "You shouldn't forget some of the more enjoyable parts of courting. For instance, have you ever considered that a simple _look_ can be equally as intimate as a touch?" She looked down for a moment before looking back up at him through her lashes with the added ghost of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Sherlock's didn't blink for quite a while as he stared back at his wife and began to understand exactly what she meant. _Oh yes,_ he thought. He certainly had ample reason for wanting this project of married courtship into a complete success.

* * *

The Watson's maid came back inside on that summer's day with the post in hand. Mary happily took the items from her and began sorting through with her one hand while cradling three week old Elizabeth in the crook of her other arm.

"Oh, John there's a letter from Mrs. Holmes here! They must have arrived at the Holmes estate. I've been waiting to hear!"

"Good!" John said as he set the paper down. "I think that trip was just what they needed, to be frank. A change of scenery and change of pace…and a bit more supervision."

Mary giggled a bit. "I couldn't stop laughing when Mr. Holmes barged in here the other day and said that this blasted courtship simply wouldn't work!" She managed to open the letter carefully without waking the sleeping infant.

"Can you blame him? The two of them living together in that little flat and yet they're attempting to keep things completely chaste? I'm honestly not sure how our courtship would have worked out in such a circumstance," John said shaking his head.

"And I don't believe he was the only one in need of a chaperone," Mary said with a humorous glint in her eye. "You missed the day when Mrs. Holmes was the one who marched in and announced she was not safe to live under the same roof with that man for one more day…Oh! So they arrived a few days ago. Molly says she's just now got time to herself to send a letter."

"I'm sure Lord and Lady Holmes are keeping them nice and busy."

"Hm, yes it sounds like…" Mary scanned the next paragraph. "Yes they've had the two of them make some social calls on friends of the family, and of course they've spent time with the Mrs. and Rebecca Hooper. They've certainly had a busy few days getting settled in! Molly is hoping for a bit more peace and quiet now. She says her room is absolutely lovely! And it's quite a luxury to have her own space…as well as a protection of course."

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to see Sherlock Holmes pining after his own wife!" John said with an amused chuckle. "Not that I hadn't seen some of it even when they were first married."

"Yes I'd say you solved that mystery quite a bit faster than the clever detective, my dear," Mary said with a wink. She looked back at the letter and read some more. "Oh how lovely! They've invited us to come and join them in another few weeks. The family is having a ball for the Holmes anniversary celebration at the end of the summer. I'm sure we'll be able to make the trip with Elizabeth by then, wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely! I think that would be a marvelous end to the summer. And by that time, hopefully Holmes and his wife will have worked out all the particulars of their marriage. That'll be something to celebrate!"

"Oh goodness!" Mary laughed. "Apparently Lady Holmes has been completely apprised of the situation between her son and Molly and she's aware of their current 'courtship.' Apparently Mr. Holmes very much wanted to make a demonstration of effort, and that included sharing these things with his mother!"

"Good God!" John was laughing now as well, imagining Sherlock having that conversation with Lady Holmes.

"Well, it was rather necessary. This way, there's someone to, shall we say, keep them on track. And Lady Holmes has been impressively diligent it seems! Ensuring they're not left alone too long and not tolerating too much contact…those sorts of things."

"In all honestly, she is probably enjoying every moment of it! She likely thought she'd missed the chance to see one of her sons courting a young lady at home in the country. Now she's able to experience it firsthand!"

Mary smiled warmly as she continued reading. "They're happy, John." She looked up at him. "It sounds as if they're really happy. I think they're going to be fine when all is said and done." She folded up the letter and replaced it in the envelope for safe keeping, deciding she'd reply later that day.

"Yes I would imagine so," John said, turning a page in his paper. "All Holmes needs to do now is to be as much of a gentleman as he can manage, and hope that his wife comes around sooner rather than later."

"Oh I think she will. She's waited this long, and she won't want to drag it out forever. Time is not limitless," Mary said softly, smiling down at Elizabeth who was beginning to open her eyes. "Why waste it?"

* * *

Molly stretched and yawned in the luxuriously cushy bed and smiled at the sight of sun streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. She certainly had no complaints about the accommodations. Aside from the fact that she was missing her husband…she could get used to this!

She got up and threw on her dressing gown and went to glance out the window onto the grounds of the Holmes estate. It was truly lovely here, especially with the grounds all alive and colorful in the summer. The past two weeks had been heaven, and she was reminded again that they'd definitely done the right thing. Though she had to laugh about how the decision actually came about.

She and Sherlock had nearly two weeks of tension filled moments at the Baker Street flat before things came to a breaking point. They tried to live together and enjoy spending time together on their own, but it was challenging. And Molly found herself becoming just as easily frustrated as Sherlock. It was difficult not to react by sliding her arms around his waist, running her fingers through his hair, or kissing him on the cheek. They enjoyed talking and laughing, but that easily stirred feelings which were hard to contain. And poor Mrs. Hudson was becoming a bit tired of being asked to come upstairs and join the pair!

On that fateful evening, they were both in the kitchen…that tiny little kitchen. Sherlock was working on some sort of experiment, and Molly was desperately trying to make some stew. It was not an easy combination, given the space and layout. In any circumstance, it would cause aggravation for both parties involved, but in this case, it was more than aggravation. After a hefty number of awkward collisions, Sherlock finally removed his gloves and announced he'd get out of her way. In doing so, he almost tripped her while moving his stool, and was forced to grab her around the waist. Sherlock's eyes had almost popped from his head when Molly straightened herself again and actually shouted, " _I cannot do this anymore_!"

It was Sherlock who suggested the trip to his family's estate. The space and the change of scenery would accommodate the present arrangement. And he even bravely agreed to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth to his parents, in hopes that it would aid in the ease of this transition. Molly loved him for it…all of it. And despite their current restrictions, she certainly didn't want him to forget how she felt.

As they stood in the Baker Street hallway, dressed and ready for their journey to the country and awaiting their carriage, Sherlock had turned to Molly and looked at her very seriously…

" _Molly, I want you to know that I am fully committed to this. I want to make this work, and I will follow this courtship arrangement." He paused, pressing his lips together. "I hope that being in the country with my family and yours will ease things for you a bit. I would hate for you to think that I was or am still pressuring you or rushing things in any way. Please know that I was not attempting to take inappropriate liberties for the past two weeks, and as I've assured you in the past, I would never coerce you into something you are not ready for. My point, Molly, is that I swear this process will be done only when you say it is. I will leave that entirely up to your discretion." He finished his speech by gently taking her gloved hand and leaning forward to press a kiss to it._

_Molly could barely tear her eyes from his and was only able to manage a soft smile and a nod in reply, and she was also awfully glad when the knock on the door sounded and it was apparent that the carriage had arrived._

_As they climbed inside and took seats on opposite sides, she gave Sherlock a mischievous little smile._

" _What is it?" Sherlock questioned._

" _Well, I just think it's a bit amusing that you assume the difficulty in adhering to this arrangement was you. Have you considered the possibility that my concern was about whether I would be able to follow these new restrictions between us?" She clasped her hands in her lap and grinned. "I certainly wouldn't want you to wrongly conclude that you are the only one undergoing a trial."_

_Sherlock stared at her intensely for a moment before slowly inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. Then he reached up and pounded on the roof of the carriage._

" _Driver?! There will be a significant increase in your wages if you can cover ground as quickly and safely as possible! These are intolerably close quarters!"_

_Molly couldn't stop giggling off and on for a good half hour after that…_

Molly walked over to her wardrobe to select a gown for today and her gaze fell on the door next to the piece of furniture. Yes, Lady Holmes had given them traditional separate chambers, but the rooms were also adjoining. That door took her to a washroom, but it was a shared washroom between herself and her husband. They'd quickly become accustomed to knocking before going inside.

Things had been going well so far. Sherlock was...well, he was Sherlock Holmes, no doubt about that. He was a bit obnoxious in the setting of his family home. Her mother in law quickly became a saint in Molly's eyes, and she could more than understand the woman's quick tongue and strong spirit. How else could she survive with Sherlock and his brother?

Molly also noted that there was something different about Sherlock's affection now. It wasn't the same as the façade he had put on for the benefit of her family. It was more subtle, but also more meaningful seeing as it was so genuine. He'd spend an entire morning pouring over chemistry books in the Holmes' family library and then quizzing her, bothering himself to sit for every meal with her and his family, playing his violin every evening for her, and even sharing rather personal things about himself in their occasional moments of privacy.

Molly learned about Sherlock's fascination with bees and that _if_ he should ever leave London, he had hopes of living in a rather small home in the country and keeping bees. He took her to the final resting place of his beloved dog Redbeard and was willing to speak openly about the experience of losing him. This was rather eye opening, as he hadn't spoken of it much when they were children. At the time, it had done little else but draw him further away from the people he was close to, and that had included Molly.

Once Molly was dressed and her hair was pinned, she ventured downstairs to the breakfast table where she was pleased to see Sherlock already sitting waiting for her, a smile blooming as she took her seat.

"Morning," Sherlock said with a little wink.

"Molly, my dear boy is refusing to have one of the lovely poached eggs the cook has made. Perhaps you can persuade him!" Lady Holmes said as she smiled at her daughter in law.

Sherlock sighed. "I ate a piece of toast, you saw me! I am not visiting you and father in order to have my daily diet closely monitored!"

"No indeed, you are having your _marriage_ closely monitored, and I do think that being alive and healthy is part of the criteria for being an acceptable husband. Wouldn't you agree, Molly?"

Molly gave Sherlock an amused smile. "I'd definitely prefer to keep you alive." She also covertly reached over and very briefly caressed his hand. "Perhaps you could show me that experiment…after we eat breakfast."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but then smiled at her, knowing he'd be losing this war. "Pass me an egg, please."

Molly grinned and slid the platter over to him.

* * *

"I will remind you again that if you spend too much time in that basement, I will send a servant to investigate!" Lady Holmes asserted as her son and Molly headed for the basement door.

Sherlock chuckled to himself as he looked back at his mother while opening the door for his wife. "It is a terrible shame that my experiment room is too unpleasant of an odor for you to endure!"

"It'll be alright, Lady Holmes," Molly assured her with a smile. "We'll be back upstairs in no time."

"Yes I do hope so!" She gave them both a stern look and then went off to the drawing room.

Once they'd descended the stairs and Sherlock had turned a lamp on, he took Molly over to the table where he had some fungus growing in little dishes. She immediately leaned over and began examining them with interest, which made Sherlock smile.

"This one is coming along nicely I'd say," Molly commented, pointing to one of the dishes. "I do hope you're keeping proper records," she said with a teasing look.

"I believe you drummed that into my brain when we were younger. Although I still maintain that I can access any information I want…all up here!" He tapped his skull.

"It's not infallible, Mr. Holmes!" Molly said with a little roll of her eyes as she looked back at the dishes.

Sherlock couldn't tear his eyes off her though. God, but she was beautiful…in such a pure and simple way. And then here she was staring at the mold he'd cultured. Could anything be more moving?

"Um, Miss Hooper," he finally said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I had wanted to ask you to accompany me tomorrow for a sort of…day out."

"Oh?" Molly straightened up and smiled at him. "What for?"

"Just a bit of riding and walking about town and perhaps some exploring. If you'd like, that is."

"Of course I would!"

Sherlock smiled with visible relief. "Ah, excellent. I must warn you though, I fear I'll be a bit rusty on the saddle. I've not ridden in some time."

Molly shrugged. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Especially because it won't be like when I was a child. I'll have to ride side saddle," she said glumly.

Another smile bloomed on Sherlock's lips. "I thought you might feel that way, which prompts me to present you with these…" He pulled a bundle out from under the table and handed it to her.

"What's this?" Molly asked excitedly as she began unwrapping the large paper parcel. Once she's opened the paper completely, she gasped and her eyes brightened. Inside, she found a pair of small trousers, and riding boots. "Mr. Holmes, these are wonderful!"

"I thought perhaps you'd appreciate them. And I believe they should fit you just right, if my estimations are correct," he said proudly.

Molly blushed a bit. "Is all that information up there as well?" She gestured to his head. "I do wonder what else you've got in there."

"Well, perhaps one day, Miss Hooper..." he said, giving her a sly smile. "I'll tell you."


	16. Chapter 16

Molly emerged from her bedroom an hour after breakfast feeling deliciously…free. She felt so light and strong and unrestricted. She'd want to feel exactly like this every single day if she could!

Amazing what a good pair of riding trousers and boots could do for one's mood.

Molly made her way outside and to the stables and was pleased to see Sherlock already waiting for her. He and the stable hand had already prepared two horses for their day out. She felt a sudden stab of self-consciousness though, when she saw the shift in Sherlock's expression as she approached. She realized that although she felt fantastic, she must look so very different to him.

"This is marvelous, thank you again," she said gesturing to her clothing. Then she laughed nervously. "I do hope I don't look too ridiculous!"

Sherlock seemed to have some difficulty getting the exact words out. "I uh- that is…on the contrary, Miss Hooper, I think that this is rather…wonderfully fetching." He gave her a soft smile.

Molly blushed, her confidence restored as she approached her horse. Oh how lovely and simple it was to mount the saddle! This would truly bring back the fun of riding as a child, when Sherlock would also give her a pair of his outgrown riding trousers.

"So, where to first?" Molly asked as Sherlock mounted his horse as well.

"I thought we could go by the town. Perhaps we can buy some sort of refreshment for mid-day. That will eliminate the need to return to the estate before dinner."

"Oh I see!" Molly said teasingly as they set off. "Are you planning to keep my away from the house for that long? Whatever would your mother say?!"

"She said quite a bit actually, when I told her of our plans last night," Sherlock said, looking as if the conversation had made quite an impact, which made Molly giggle even more. "I believe she frightened me sufficiently."

"I imagine so! Scandalous!" Molly said exaggeratedly. "Though I suppose we used to stay out in the fields and woods from morning till dark when we were younger. And the last time we did that we were, hmm…sixteen and fourteen?"

"Yes, but that was quite a different time. I'm sure we wouldn't have done anything considered improper."

Molly raised a brow. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Holmes!" She picked up her pace to a trot, forcing her slack jawed husband to follow suit.

They reached the town before long and dismounted, leaving their horses tied for a while as they strolled by some of the local shops. Molly had stopped outside the bakery and was admiring some of the fresh bread when the owner came out to greet them.

"Well now! Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, I can hardly believe me own eyes!"

"Good morning…Mr. Francis, isn't it?" Sherlock shook the man's hand.

"The very same! It's not been terribly long since I've seen your lovely wife of course, but it's been years since I've laid eyes on you, sir! And 'ere you both are…just as you were so very long ago." The man shook his head with a pleased smile.

"Yes, we did used to stop by here quite often, didn't we?" Molly said, recalling how the kind baker would sometimes give them bread and iced buns for free.

"And Lord, were you ever smitten!" the man exclaimed with a chuckle, pointing to Sherlock. "Even as a young lad! Wherever Miss Molly was, there you were alongside!"

Molly giggled as she saw Sherlock's face turn pink, but he managed a smile, probably realizing that this hardly hurt his case at the moment, whether the man knew what he was talking about or not.

"I was pleased to finally hear about the marriage. Providence played a hand in it, mark me words! Meant to be, you were! My belated congratulations to you both!" He gave them a wink and then his eyes lit up. "Just a tick, I'll get you a little something!"

As he disappeared into his shop, Molly turned to Sherlock with laughing eyes. "Smitten, were you?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Bit of an exaggeration I'm sure."

Before Molly could continue teasing, Mr. Francis emerged with a paper bundle. "There you are! Bit of a treat for the two of you." He waved Sherlock's hand away the second he reached into his pocket for coins. "Consider it a wedding gift!"

"Why thank you, how kind," Molly said sweetly. "I'm sure we'll very much enjoy this on our little picnic."

The older gentleman cheerily waved to them as they walked on and Molly very happily looped her hand in the bend of Sherlock's arm. Having a stroll down memory lane was proving to be wonderfully enjoyable, and even entertaining!

They made a couple others stops to get some fruit and a wedge of fresh cheese. When they'd finished and were approaching their horses, there were two small girls and a boy playing nearby who eagerly ran over to say hello.

"You're dressed like a boy," one of the little girls innocently stated.

"Millicent!" The mother of the little girl appeared from nearby and immediately spoke in a reprimanding tone. "That is impolite!" But the moment the woman looked into Molly's eyes, her face lit up. "My goodness! Miss Hoop- oh, my apologies, I mean to say Mrs. Holmes! It is so very lovely to see you again."

"Oh, Mrs. Gregor!" Molly exclaimed, immediately recognizing and then clasping her hand warmly. "How wonderful! And this is Millicent? My goodness, how she's grown. I feel as though it was only yesterday when she was born."

Mrs. Gregor smiled at Mr. Holmes. "Mrs. Holmes assisted in my daughter's birth five years ago, and I'm still awfully grateful. She was positively invaluable!"

"I can easily believe it," Sherlock said with a smile at Molly.

"And who are these little ones?" Molly asked, looking at the other little boy and girl.

"Oh, these are my brother's children…twins, Freddy and Grace. They're five as well, just a bit younger than my Millicent. I believe you were present at their birth."

"Ah yes, I do recall! Twins are difficult to forget," Molly said with a laugh. She leaned down a bit and looked at the three of them. "Are you all off on adventures today?"

The little boy shook his head. "We're bored."

"Oh no!" Molly said dramatically. "But you can't possibly be bored! Look around at all the lovely things you could be discovering!"

"Are you on an adventure?" Millicent asked.

Molly glanced back at Sherlock. "Why yes we are, as it happens."

Grace stepped up and suddenly spoke excitedly. "Can we come?!" Which prompted a chorus of "Oh yes please! Can we? Can we?!" All while the three of them had begun hopping a bit on their little feet.

"Children! Children! Please stop!" Mrs. Gregor shook her head and smile apologetically at the Holmeses. "I am terribly sorry, none of them have learned their manners very well as you can see."

"They can come along."

All eyes turned to Sherlock as he spoke the unexpected words. Well, at least unexpected to have come out of his mouth. A smile slowly blossomed on Molly's face.

"Oh no, it's such a bother for you both!" Mrs. Gregor objected.

"Nonsense!" Sherlock said, properly tying up the horses before leaning down to lift Freddy who was currently hopping excitedly at his feet. "Just for an hour. We'll bring them right back here after a bit of a walk."

Mrs. Gregor looked at Molly. "Well…I suppose if you're sure…"

"Absolutely!" Molly assured her, taking the two girl's hands. "It's our pleasure."

And with that, "goodbyes" were said by all and promises to return in an hour's time. Molly couldn't help but laugh a bit as they began trudging off on the path out of the town with three little children in tow. This certainly wasn't how she imagined the day progressing when they'd started out this morning.

But she also couldn't be happier to be wrong.

* * *

Molly was helping Freddy and Millicent weave a little necklace out of some wild flowers, but was also frequently looking over and smiling at the scene beside her. She could honestly say that it was shocking how quickly and comfortably Sherlock had settled into the role of a caregiver. She didn't have to prompt him, didn't have to make him stay interested. He seemed to genuinely enjoy teaching these curious little children. Though, Molly did have to give him a bit of a warning look as he began rattling off facts about the poppies they were all admiring…including conceivably being able to use them to make opium.

"But what if they sting me?" Grace asked Sherlock in a whisper.

"Ah, don't worry about that," he whispered back as they observed the couple of bees that were hovering around a cluster of flowers a couple of meters away. "Just keep still, keep a bit of distance, and don't go getting them angry. Bees will die if they use their stingers, so they do try to avoid it at all costs. Don't make them upset and they couldn't be more harmless!"

"Mrs. Hooper, will you wear this?" Freddy asked, holding up the rather discombobulated necklace.

"Oh of course I will!" Molly exclaimed happily. "Would you put it on me please?" She leaned her head down so the little boy could fit it over onto her neck. Once it was on her, he beamed with pride and then snuggled up next to her.

"Should I be jealous?" Sherlock leaned over to whisper.

"Perhaps you should be," Molly said with a smirk. "You can't blame me though…you've certainly never made me a necklace out of flowers!"

Soon after, they needed to begin the walk back toward town. On their way though, Molly noticed a bird's nest up in a tree. She told Sherlock and he was able to peek over the branch and catch a glimpse of some small baby birds, all chirping very softly.

"Come on, up on my shoulders and you can have a look," Sherlock suggested to the children.

Once by one he hoisted them onto his shoulders and stood near the branch so they could have a very clear view of the activity inside the bird's nest. All the children gasped and chattered about what they were seeing and were disappointed when they had to be placed back on the ground.

Molly stood by watching, wondering how she hadn't thought of this before, and how she hadn't considered it an absolutely vital bit of this collected evidence in the continued experiment between her and her husband… _children._

Of course children hadn't crossed her mind before, when things were only destined to end by a specified time. But she realized now that even since she and Sherlock had expressed their desire to remain married, she'd not truly begun to consider the reality of a family. It was a reality, if she were honest with herself. And she began to realize that it was an absolutely lovely reality, one of which she would be thrilled to experience with this man before her. If he could take such care and consideration with these children who he didn't even know, how much more so would he be devoted to his own flesh and blood? The thought warmed her heart and she sniffed away a little moisture that was clouding her vision.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, approaching with the children as they'd now finished observing the nest.

Molly nodded. "I am, thank you. I was just…making some observations." She gave him a little secret smile which seemed to reflect in the look in his eyes, making them shine just a bit brighter.

* * *

A couple of hours later, after they'd brought the children back into town and got their horses, Sherlock and Molly lay face up in a field near a favorite stream of theirs from when they were young. They had eaten the snacks purchased earlier and were now stretched out in the grass, staring up at the sky.

"That one looks like a…"

"A cloud," Sherlock finished for her.

"No, it looks like a rabbit's head with floppy ears! And…that one there looks like…"

"Ah yes, a cumulus cloud!" Sherlock said again, teasingly.

"Wrong again, detective! It looks like a lung! I must say, you were infinitely better at this the last time we did it," Molly said with a giggle.

"Are you referring to when I was a twelve year old boy?" Sherlock asked with a chuckle. "Yes, that was before I realized that I didn't need my imagination to see the unbelievable…I simply needed to move to London and solve mysteries!"

"Imagination is still important. How else can you work out all those mysteries? Besides, sometimes imagination can be just for fun."

"Perhaps you should have done this activity with the five year olds!"

Molly laughed. "Yes, I think they would have been more appreciative!"

There was a moment of silence as Molly continued staring into the blue grey sky. She thought again about what she'd observed with Sherlock and the children, especially recalling how he created a rotation all the way back to the town, letting them take turns riding on his back instead of walking. She couldn't help but voice her thoughts…at least, some of them.

"Mr. Holmes, it was lovely of you to include those children in part of our day. I'm sure it meant a great deal to them…I know it did to me," she said softly, glancing over at his profile that was just as picturesque to her as the surrounding landscape. "You're a good man, you know."

She watched as the Adam's apple moved up and then down again on his neck. He didn't look at her as he responded with a rather solemn tone.

"I was not always, and _am_ not always, a truly good man, Miss Hooper." He drew breath before continuing. "There are things I've done and weaknesses of mine that will continue to follow me…possibly forever."

Molly continued staring at him. "I know," she whispered.

"I've been free of certain things…certain substances…for quite some time. But that does not mean the tendency toward such a thing ever truly leaves. You have already helped me in this area, more than you know. I could not truly be open to Watson about the severity of it's hold on me…his high regard for me and my character mean a great deal, and it would pain me to see myself diminish in his eyes. Though, naturally I'd never admit such a thing to him."

Molly smiled at the rarely voiced affection that Sherlock felt for his dear friend.

"But you…" He turned to face her. "You were there for me even when you knew nothing of it. Do you know that probably half the letters I wrote to you were times that I desperately needed to occupy my mind? Times when I desperately needed to somehow stay sane without giving into that weakness? You gave me that. And that is to say nothing of the times when I received letters from you, sometimes at what seemed to be just the right moment." He turned his face to the sky again. "But as I said, the tendency will never truly leave me. So I may still need you…need your help…from time to time."

Molly was afraid her voice might fail her when she spoke, as emotions currently flooded her heart and mind. But she licked her lips and answered him. And her words, even to her own ears, were surprisingly clear and strong.

"Well then, you can have me."

This prompted him to turn and look at her again.

Molly cracked a smile, lightening the mood a touch. "From time to time, I suppose."

Sherlock's lips lifted as well, and then after a moment of keeping his eyes trained to hers, he suddenly got to his feet and offered his hands, pulling her up as well. "Shall we walk down by the stream now?"

They lead their horses to the water's edge as well and tied them there before walking slowly along the bank, sometimes talking and sometimes just listening to the sound of the stream they were following. After a little distance, they stopped and sat on a larger rock, quietly enjoying the scenery and cool breeze.

Molly looked down and saw a patch of flowers alongside the rock. She picked one of the bunches of pink blossoms and showed it to Sherlock. "I believe this is...flowering-rush, if I'm not mistaken."

"Hm," Sherlock said, examining it for himself. "You may be correct. I do wonder if that's one we'd gotten to record many years ago." With that, he reached into his jacket pocket and produced the small leather notebook that Molly recognized instantly.

She gasped as she took it from his hands and began thumbing through its many used pages. "Oh my goodness! I haven't seen this in over ten years! I can't believe you still had this!"

Sherlock gave her a delightfully soft smile. "Naturally…I never discard valuable evidence."

Molly's gaze connected with his, thanking him with a look that was just as expressive as words. He smiled again and then also produced a pencil from his pocket.

"Perhaps you'd like to record the findings, Miss Hooper?"

Molly grinned and shook her head as she took the pencil and turned to the first blank page in the notebook. "This certainly takes me back. I feel like a little girl again!"

As Molly began to note the name of the flower and make a simple sketch, Sherlock took the blossoms and examined them more closely. After some silence, he spoke again, almost more to himself than to her.

"I could hardly be called a religious man, not being one for churches and sermons. But this…this flower…I cannot help but note the message it preaches and the evidence it presents."

Molly's interest was piqued, and she set the pencil and notebook in her lap as she listened to Sherlock speak while he stared at the pink flowers.

"There are certain things in this world that are nothing short of vital to life, such as food and shelter and means of living. But this small flower, it is an adornment to the necessities of life…an extra. Could we continue to live without its vibrant color and unique detail? Of course. And yet, here it is for us to enjoy. Something of this sort can only come from a source of true goodness. A flower like this provides silent but indisputable proof of its source."

As he finished speaking, Sherlock plucked one of the pink blossoms from the cluster and reached over to carefully thread the stem into the side of Molly's twisted hair at the back of her neck. When he'd finished, he softly spoke again, this time looking at her.

"I should specify that a flower is _one_ of life's pleasures that provide such proof."

Molly felt driven by a force beyond her control as she reached out and took his hand, bringing it to her lips and pressing a kiss to it. As she did, she was involuntarily reminded of kissing his lips. And although she couldn't be sure, she wondered if she somehow communicated that memory in the look she gave him, because she could see his eyes brighten and then he looked a bit jittery as she released his hand again.

"Perhaps it would be best if we ride back toward the house. That should give us enough time before my mother likely insists that we join the family for dinner," he said with an added hint of disdain.

Molly let out a contented sigh as she took one more look around them. "Yes I suppose it must end some time, mustn't it? That's alright, it was a lovely day. And we can certainly do it again."

Sherlock agreed with a smile and a nod, though it seemed that there was a question in his eyes, a bit of trepidation about the future. Molly didn't have to guess why. She knew that he was waiting…waiting for her to tell him what their near future would hold.

They made their way back to the horses that were happily taking a sip from the rushing stream, and then began their leisurely ride back to the Holmes' estate. And by the time they got back, the sun was just barely beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a strangely comforting shadow throughout the sky. Despite the enjoyment of the day, Molly was glad to be back.

Sherlock dismounted and then came over to her horse as she did the same. As she swung her leg over, the foot still in the other stirrup slipped just enough for her to lose her balance as she came down. Sherlock caught her around the waist, and for one heavenly moment they were chest to chest and nose to nose as he held her there, feet hovering above the ground.

But it was only for a brief moment. Sherlock quickly set her down and took a step back, adjusting his jacket a bit and clearing his throat.

"Forgive me, it seemed you had lost your footing and I- I simply thought it best to-"

"It's perfectly fine, Mr. Holmes," Molly interrupted him to say with a reassuring smile. "Really, I didn't mind."

His mind seemingly at ease again, Sherlock offered his arm and Molly happily took it as they made their way toward the house. But of course, Molly couldn't quite feel like they were actually going _home._

Despite the beauty of the house and the lovely comforts she was enjoying, home was very far away. Home was nestled in bustling streets and constant activity, work and books…and the quiet privacy they'd enjoyed for many weeks. And for the first time since they'd come to the country, Molly truly wished she was back there. She wished that 221 was the number on the door they'd be walking into.

And she wished they could be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in case it seems a bit out of character for Sherlock to spout a sentimental speech about belief in a creator, it's actually quite in keeping with the original character! The inspiration for what he said about flowers in this chapter came from a quote about a rose that Lexie shared with me in "The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes" by Arthur Conan Doyle. Really beautiful stuff! :)


	17. Chapter 17

Molly strolled back leisurely from taking a moment out on the terrace. The summer weather did make for some discomfort inside the house, even at night. But a quick breath outside set her right very quickly, the cool gentle night breeze providing delicious relief.

As she walked back down the dim hallway, she couldn't help but be drawn to the open double doors which led to the ballroom. She'd only been in this ballroom one other time in her life, and the experience had left quite the impression.

Molly veered from her path and went to stand in the grandiose doorway. She leaned on the frame and stared into the large room, lit up now only by the moonlight. But she could see it all very clearly in her mind's eye…the brightly lit room filled with handsomely dressed guests. It was the most thrilling sight at the time and had made her heart nearly beat right out of her chest as she'd walked in at eighteen years old. It was too bad that the memory was also clouded with such pain.

"I can imagine what you're thinking at this moment."

Molly turned at the voice of Lady Holmes, who was approaching with a knowing smile as she went on.

"You are likely flooded with the memories of a particular summer's night some six years ago."

Molly smiled shyly. "It seems you are excellent at deduction as well."

Lady Holmes shrugged noncommittally. "The boy had to get it from somewhere." She gave Molly a little wink.

Molly looked back into the silvery shrouded ballroom as she spoke to her mother in law. "It was certainly a memorable night."

"Indeed!" she said emphatically. "After all, it was the very first moment that I was sure…that my son was in love with you."

Molly's eyes snapped to her in surprise. "Wh-why would you have thought that then? It was such a…I mean to say, I felt as if…" She was at a loss for words when trying to sort through what that night and its aftermath was like for her.

"You were properly mortified that night, I imagine," Lady Holmes stated plainly. "Completely humiliated and rather slighted as well."

Molly gave her a tight smile. That about summed it all up nicely.

Lady Holmes leaned in a bit closer. "I read a bit between the lines, my dear. And I saw a bit more than all that." She sighed and smiled at her. "Oh but you did look absolutely lovely that night!"

Molly gave a short laugh. "I think I rather overdid it. I wanted to look nice but…I'm not sure I looked like Molly Hooper by the time I'd left my house!"

"Well of course you wanted to primp a bit! It was your own coming out party, after all. And I still insist that you looked lovely, even if it was a different sort of look than we were all accustomed to seeing. And truth be told, I believe that was what began the whole mess with Sherlock that night! The moment you walked in it was as if he were on a rather confounding case. He couldn't quite figure you out, and I'm sure he wasn't used to feeling that way."

Molly twiddled her fingers a bit as she answered sadly. "Yes and he certainly made it his business to _figure me out._ "

Lady Holmes let out an angry little huff as she shook her head. "I could have boxed his ears right there in the middle of the ballroom in that moment! Thankfully, the few of us were standing off to the side, our family and yours. Not many were able to overhear him making an absolute fool of himself!"

Molly could see the scene and hear his deep spoken cutting words even as Lady Holmes related them herself…

" _Ah, Miss Hooper! The woman of the hour has arrived…how thrilling!"_

_"Good evening, Mr. Holmes," she said softly, feeling instantly like she was being approached by a stranger as opposed to the close friend she'd fallen in love with. His eyes were on her, and they were looking her over like a bird of prey._

" _It seems clear that Miss Hooper is singularly focused this evening," he said, smiling wryly at his family standing by. "This overt display meant to entice eligible men…it really is quite obvious. Not wasting any time are we?"_

" _Sherlock, my boy, perhaps you'd like some-" his father attempted, but the young fool just continued on._

" _This certainly isn't the look of a young woman studying to be a doctor, is it? No! Miss Hooper has very different things on her mind tonight! Surely planning for the future is now being thought of in terms of how many young men will have the privilege of asking for her hand in a dance tonight." His eyes shot down to the little card that hung from the loop around her wrist as Molly's eyes began to sting and she could only pray that they didn't fill to the point of overflow._

_She actually heard the little gasp from her mother and sister as Sherlock reached down and swiped the dance card from her wrist with cat like reflexes. Her mouth fell slack and she was frozen in shock even as she considered launching herself at him and taking it back._

" _Ah yes," Sherlock drawled bitingly. "The little card must be simply overflowing with names of prospective young men who are willing to give her everything she's ever dreamed of." He started to open the small card as he glanced down and chuckled. "Well, likely not everything, but clearly Miss Hooper now hopes that a house full of babies will compensate for the lack of what she had always-"_

_His words froze and crumbled in his mouth as everyone watched him stare down at the name…his name..the only name written inside._

_Molly chewed her lip for a second before swallowing thickly and reaching over to take the dance card back from his stilled fingers. She paused silently while slipping the loop back around her wrist with shaking hands. But then she looked right at him with eyes full of pain._

" _W-why would you say such horrible things…to me? Why?"_

_The painfully awkward moment was palpable in that corner of the room, and Sherlock's face told the tale as well. And he almost left, almost stormed off. But he didn't._

" _I am sorry…forgive me."_

_His words made Molly's eyes snap back to his in a whole new breed of surprise. She watched him in something like awe as he approached and reached out his hand, looking like he was humbly offering a sacrifice for his sins…_

"And then he asked you for the first dance," Lady Holmes said with a smile. "I could have dropped to the floor at that moment."

Molly shook her head and smiled. "That was hardly a fairy tale! Do you know that we probably exchanged less than ten words between the two of us during that entire dance? And that is in addition to the mortifying fact that I stepped on his feet a time or two! And then he completely disappeared, not to be seen for the rest of the ball."

"But I'd never seen such a thing from Sherlock before," she said sincerely. "The true humility in his eyes when he apologized. It was unlike anything I'd witnessed in the past. He was hurting…because he'd hurt you. That spoke louder than any of the stupid jealous words he'd uttered before that!"

"Jealous?" Molly asked with a little laugh.

"Of course!" Lady Holmes exclaimed. "He couldn't stand the fact that you were there that night as an eligible young woman. Yes indeed, you looked different. You were not a little girl anymore! And the idea that perhaps your plans and desires had changed and you were moving on…it hurt him. And being the foolish boy he was at the time, he lashed out. He never stopped to consider that perhaps what you wanted hadn't ever changed, and that it included him."

Molly was quiet for a moment as she considered this and looked at it from the eyes of Sherlock's mother. It was admittedly an intriguing was to look at that memory.

"To be perfectly frank my dear, I wondered if there would be wedding bells by the end of summer!" Lady Holmes continued, though her face fell a bit after that. "I suppose it was not only my heart that broke when he left for London within the week…and with barely a word of goodbye."

"I got no word of goodbye at all actually," Molly clarified. "And yes, my heart broke a little. Though, I hardly held out grand hopes back then. I felt that he'd made his feelings, or lack of them, awfully clear. I was almost more surprised when I received that first letter from him about six months after he left."

"He never forgot you, my dear," Lady Holmes said kindly. "But my boy…he seems to enjoy a good mystery so very much that he prefers to turn himself into one. It often seems that the very last person to discover the true feelings and desires of Sherlock Holmes…is the silly man himself."

Molly smiled and nodded, and Lady Holmes approached to give her hand a squeeze. "It pleases me greatly that he has now finally come to some sense. And I trust that you will soon see how very deeply he now loves you." She gave her daughter in law a warm smile and turned to go just as another pair of footsteps were approaching down the hall.

Molly watched as Sherlock stopped and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek as they passed each other and Lady Holmes said goodnight. She went in the direction of the staircase and Sherlock walked over toward the ballroom.

He strolled over and leaned on the opposite side of the door frame, crossing his arms and smiling a little slyly at her. "You and my mother have been talking about me I see."

Molly laughed. "You are both impossibly perceptive! About some things at least." She drew a breath and let it out slowly. "We were just…remembering."

"Ah," Sherlock breathed out, nodding thoughtfully. "That."

"Mm, yes."

"Seems to be little chance of my erasing that from our history books."

Molly shrugged. "I'm not so sure I'd want to. I must admit that your mother helped me look at things in a bit of a different light. And…perhaps it's not such a painful memory after all." She gave him a kind smile, perhaps even with an echo of long ago bestowed forgiveness.

Sherlock gave her a little half smile, obviously happy to see that his past sins were not coming back to bite him again.

They both stood silently for a moment, the quiet of the house settling in and the moon casting a bit less light than before as some clouds had moved in.

"Mr. Holmes?" Molly asked softly, a question suddenly eating away at her.

"Hm?"

"What if…what if you had not gone off to London as quickly as you did?" she asked cautiously. "What do you think would have happened in that next year or two…with us?"

He answered more quickly than she expected, as if it was a question he'd answered for himself many times already.

"I may have tried," Sherlock answered softly, his voice low and echoing slightly in the large halls. "I may have tried to be the man that you wanted and needed."

Before Molly could make much of a reply, his words cut through the silence again.

"I am glad that I left when I did."

Molly shot him an expression of surprise, and even a bit of hurt. But then he went on to explain himself.

"If I had tried back then, there is one thing I know almost without a doubt." His eyes cast a line to hers across the doorway. "I surely would have failed. I would have broken your heart, Molly Hooper, and very possibly lost you forever because of my inability to pick up the pieces properly. And for that, I _never_ would have forgiven myself. I was not the man I am today, and I don't believe that even the lifetime of selfless devotion you had to offer would have made up for the lack of my own. Everything that happened from the moment I made a life for myself in London until this day was exactly what I needed. For that reason I'll never be sorry for how and when we came together. So yes…I am glad I left you then."

Molly's heart was beating like a drum and she wanted absolutely nothing but to cross the width of that doorway and claim the mouth that had just spoken those words. She needed it like air.

Instead, Sherlock stepped forward tentatively. He closed most of the distance between them, looking deep into her eyes the whole time, and she prayed that he'd read her thoughts and and planned to yield to them.

With what looked like a painful dose of self control, he simply caressed her cheek very lightly with his thumb. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered though, obviously wanting to keep skin connected to skin for as long as possible.

When he finally pulled back, Molly couldn't bear to open her eyes at first, wanting nothing more than to stay in that little world where he was close enough to press a kiss to her face. But his words finally pulled her back to reality.

"I believe I'll bid you goodnight now, Miss Hooper," he said in a slightly rumbling whisper, looking down at her perhaps a bit more glumly than the other goodnights she'd heard of late.

"Goodnight," Molly whispered back automatically, but knew that she didn't want to say it just as much as he didn't. And then she watched him turn dutifully and ascend the staircase without barely a look backward.

And that was the moment she knew for an absolute certainty that _this_ was all so very unacceptable now…because it was all no longer necessary. Molly let her head lean back against the door frame and she grinned widely to herself at the glorious revelation and subsequent decision that came barreling into her mind.

It was time to go after her husband.

* * *

Molly knocked on the washroom door that opened into Sherlock's bedroom and he opened it a moment later, instantly looking a bit wide eyed at her unexpected presence.

"Miss Hooper...hello." His gaze shifted back and forth for a second. "Can I help you?"

Molly nodded. "Could I come in?"

Sherlock stepped aside with an inviting wave of his arm. "Don't tell my mother," he added with a smirk.

"Perish the thought," Molly murmured as she came in and took a seat in the small sofa by the fire. Sherlock followed suit, though he sat down against the opposite arm rest, maximizing the arm's length of space that separated them.

Molly took a breath and adjusted her dressing gown a bit before placing her clasped hands in her lap. She smiled at Sherlock who was obviously still a bit lost.

"I wanted to thank you…for today," she finally said. "It meant a great deal to me, all of it. There was something about going back in time…it made things here and now so much clearer. I hadn't really anticipated that…but it was wonderful."

Sherlock's expression softened as he listened and he finally smiled a little. "I'm glad. I had hoped it would do…something of that nature."

Molly stared at him for a moment before releasing a breath, a little sigh of exasperation as she pushed herself over till she was right next to him.

"You mean the _world_ to me, Sherlock Holmes! Do you know that?" She placed a palm against the side of his face, caressing the lines and contours that she'd come to know so well. And she saw the look in his eyes shift. It shifted from surprise, to longing, and to hesitation all in the space of three seconds.

"I suppose I know now," he whispered with a slightly nervous smile.

"I've wanted to say it all day," Molly said vehemently. "Longer than that, really! But today was especially trying to keep myself in check. I've been just dying inside from all the things that I want to say and…and do!" She raked her eyes over his face and then locked her gaze onto his lips. Before she could think any further, she leaned forward, now grasping his face with both hands and enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her fingers.

The kiss she gave him, and which he readily reciprocated, was slow and tender…achingly so. At some point she felt his hands slide over to her waist and everything else began to melt from her mind. Molly certainly didn't want to stop, not now or ever, but she did finally pull away, wanting to give him the opportunity to make the next move.

When she did, Sherlock's eyes remained closed for a few seconds as he drew ragged breaths. A frown soon developed on his lovely brow though, and his hands left her waist and fingers wrapped gently around her wrists to remove her hands from his face. He finally opened his eyes and looked sadly into hers.

"Miss Hooper, while I am _very much_ enjoying this conversation, I think that it would be wise if you would…retire to your own chambers." He closed his eyes again and emitted a little noise of frustration in the back of his throat.

Molly almost could have burst out laughing at that moment. He was trying so very hard, and it was nothing short of adorable.

She did let out a soft chuckle which prompted him to look at her again. "Mr. Holmes, I must tell you that I disagree. I am of the opinion that I should stay…right here," she said with a soft smile.

Sherlock tilted his head and looked at her quizzically.

Molly shifted her hands so that she could hold onto his. "I would also very much prefer that from now on you refer to me as _Mrs. Holmes._ " This made his eyes perk up instantly. "Or Molly would do just beautifully as well. No more of this Miss Hooper business…we're done with that."

Sherlock began to look hopeful, searching her eyes with his own. "We are?"

Molly nodded while biting her lip. "We are," she confirmed softly. "I realized tonight that as surely as I can say that I'm desperately in love with you…I can say the very same about how you feel for me. _I know_ that you're in love with me. I've never been more confident about it. We love each other and we're husband and wife and, well, I can't help but think we should start acting like it."

There was a strange pause that Molly hadn't anticipated. They both sat there gazing happily at each other…but clearly they now weren't sure what exactly to do next.

"So…that's it then," Sherlock said with a little smile.

"It is."

"Wonderful."

"Yes."

Sherlock looked away for a moment, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Hmm…"

"What is it?"

"Well I recall you saying that we did all of this rather backward."

"Yes, that's right," Molly agreed.

Sherlock nodded, looking suddenly determined. He hopped down from his seat on the sofa and swept his dressing gown out of the way as he knelt down on one knee in front of Molly's legs, making her grin instantly.

"I believe we never had a proper proposal," he said with a smile, and extended his hand which Molly placed hers in. "Molly Holmes, would you do me the honor of _continuing_ to be my wife and to share this life with me? Because I am rather convinced that nothing would make me a happier man."

"Yes, I absolutely will, Sherlock Holmes!" Molly answered right away, and she began tugging him to come back up on the sofa.

Sherlock obliged while laughing a bit, but then had another idea as he took a seat beside her again. "I imagine we should make some sort of vows. The first ones seemed so…"

"Meaningless," Molly finished. "I agree. Do you want to go first?"

"With pleasure," he murmured, scooting over a bit closer and cradling her face. "Molly Holmes, I vow to you that from this day forward, my life will become _our_ life together. I will care for you…"

He leaned forward and kissed one cheek.

"…and support you…"

He kissed the other cheek.

"…honor you as my equal…"

He kissed her nose.

"…and absolutely cherish you."

He kissed just the corner of her mouth, making her want his lips to shift over just a bit.

"For as long as we both shall live." He smiled a bit cheekily. "Though, I'll likely also try your patience on a very regular basis."

"I would likely be more concerned if you didn't," Molly replied with a little kiss on his nose. "Now, is it my turn?"

"Mrs. Holmes, you may have the floor," he said with a wave of his hand.

Molly grinned and got up from where she sat on the sofa. She instead took a seat across Sherlock's lap, happily touching her forehead to his for a moment as his arms encircled her waist.

"Sherlock Holmes," Molly began while slipping her arms around his neck. "I vow that from here forward, I will be everything you need me to be. I will be your wife, friend, colleague, adviser, and confidant. And most importantly, I will be the woman who loves you…no matter what. Sometimes it'll mean I risk everything for you." She chuckled a little. "And yes, sometimes it'll mean I tell you when you are trying my patience! But it'll always be there, that love. It'll be what you can count on…for as long as we both shall live."

She finished her vows by leaning forward and whispering, "I believe that now you may kiss the bride."

Sherlock met her lips in a feathery kiss, a bit reminiscent of the one they shared on their actual wedding day. He pulled away, even that little kiss somehow leaving him a bit breathless. "And now, Mrs. Holmes…Molly," he whispered low. "Would you say we are finally truly married?"

Molly didn't quite get to answer yet, since her husband dipped his head down to plant a trail of spine tingling lovely kisses from below her ear down to the shoulder, pushing just a bit of fabric aside for better access. The moment he raised his head again, Molly immediately slanted her lips against his, both of them losing grip on the rest of the world around them as quickly as their grip on each other tightened. She could feel Sherlock's fingers fisting bunches of her dressing gown around her waist, and realized that her hands were grasping at his purple dressing gown with the same sort of desperation.

Molly had no question this time, unlike that moment of passion back at Baker Street a few weeks before. This time, there was added conviction. She had the confidence that this wasn't just what she wanted and needed…it's what was right. And that made it all so much more glorious than she could have ever imagined.

She pulled back, grasping his face, both of them staring at each other with half lidded eyes. "You want to know if we're truly married yet?"

Sherlock nodded, unable to form words as he continually shifted his gaze from her eyes to her lips and back again.

"My darling Sherlock," Molly said with almost fierce affection, giving him a look that was as much a promise as it was an invitation. She leaned forward to hover her lips against his and close her eyes as she whispered her answer.

"We very nearly are..."

* * *

Lady Holmes was just bringing her cup of tea to her lips when she almost lost her grip on it entirely and sent it clattering to the table.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" she bellowed as her younger son entered the dining room in clearly nothing but his dressing gown.

"Good morning, Mummy!" he exclaimed cheerily as he grabbed an unused plate and a fork and began stabbing various items of food from off the serving trays.

"What the devil are you doing downstairs like that?!"

Sherlock stopped and looked at her with a comical frown as he gestured to his plate. "Retrieving breakfast…obviously!"

Lady Holmes continued gaping at the inappropriate sight and stammered out some more objections at her son. "You are completely indecent, Sherlock! You must get back upstairs and put some clothes on this instant before your poor wife comes downstairs for breakfast and sees you in such a state!"

Sherlock began chuckling happily as he continued gathering a strangely large breakfast for a man who preferred eating whole meals every two to three days. "As it happens, there is no danger of my wife coming downstairs as she is currently _far_ more indecent that I am!" A bit more secret chuckling to himself before he went on. "Though, you are right that she's in need of breakfast…thus my trip downstairs."

He suddenly turned to the very red eared under butler who was standing by near the door. "Ah, hello there. Could you have a pot of coffee sent up to my room? Cream, sugar, two cups, and do just set it outside the door…please and thank you."

The young man nodded and went off to pass on the request, glad to leave the room as quick as possible.

Lady Holmes was still trying to process all that had just come out of her son's mouth. "Well I- I hardly know what to think…"

"Oh, Mummy, I imagine you can think quite a bit," Sherlock said as he grabbed a couple pastries. He threw her a smile. "I haven't a lot of time, so hopefully you're able to work out the basics. We'll be off to London in a few hours."

"W- what?" Lady Holmes stammered. "To London now? Whatever for?!"

"Never fear, we will certainly return at the end of summer for the party! But for the next few weeks we will be at the Savoy." He grinned at her with almost childlike pride. "For our honeymoon of course!"

Lady Holmes' shock began to gradually turn into awe and joy. Her lips began to slowly curve up in a smile as her son took the time to pass by her on his way out with his packed full plate of food.

"We certainly appreciate all your particular…assistance, Mummy, and the general hospitality." He leaned down and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek before straightening up again and looking down at her. "Though I do admit to looking forward to leaving for our extended stay at the Savoy. And _this_ time, I will have no need of their blasted little couch!"

"Oh my," Lady Holmes muttered under her breath before giving her son a slightly watery smile. "Yes well…congratulations, dear, and a safe journey!"

Sherlock gave her another amusingly jolly smile and then took his leave, passing his father on the way out.

Lord Holmes looked at his teary wife quizzically as he took a seat at the table. "What's all this about?"

"Our son," she said with a sniff. "He's married…and he's ever so happy."

"Ah yes," Lord Holmes said, nodding in agreement, trying to keep up even though he was almost sure that this was not an incredibly recent piece of news. "And this is…a change, is it?"

"Oh yes," Lady Holmes said with an affection smile at her husband as she picked up her coffee once again. "It is…quite a wonderful change."


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock stood by, hands clasped behind his back, silently observing the party and enjoying the orchestra's playing. Everyone was happily chattering, but most of the guests didn't interest him much. His eyes quickly fell on his wife and the Watsons across the room. When Sherlock had originally received this invitation months ago, he hadn't anticipated that he'd prefer to spend most of the time with eyes trained on his beloved wife.

It seemed a lifetime ago now, all those months, and perhaps years if he were honest with himself, that he had so violently pushed her away from his heart. Sentiment...the chemical defect which had proven to be far more of a necessity to his life than anything else. He looked back on those years of solitude, and could only conclude that they readied him to knock down those walls. They taught him that he absolutely had to let people in. Especially the woman that mattered most, and that he now loved with his whole heart.

Molly and the Watsons kept glancing over at him, making it rather obvious that he was being discussed and prompting him to join them.

As he approached, Mary immediately grasped his hand to give it a squeeze. "Mr. Holmes, have I yet thoroughly expressed how thrilled I am for the two of you?"

Sherlock made a mock expression of contemplation. "Mm, I do believe it's been mentioned once or twice, yes."

"Well it merits mentioning again, Holmes," John chimed in. "I'm not sure any of us will quite be able to get over the pleasant surprise of all this. At least, not for some time. And then surely when this happy shock has begun to wear off, perhaps there will be another sort of happy announcement…" He and Mary exchanged a little look.

Molly began smiling, but also blushing furiously. She didn't have to attempt a reply, because Sherlock rapidly jumped in.

"Mrs. Holmes will need to be focusing on her career at present," he said quite firmly. "There is nothing wrong with eventually having children, but it would certainly create a bit of difficulty considering our plans for the very near future." He looked down and exchanged a very warm look with her. "Besides, we are quite content as we are."

Mary clasped a hand over her heart. "The two of you make my teeth ache and I absolutely adore it!"

Molly laughed and smiled at her friend. "Yes, well although we are happy as we are, I am going to feel just awful when I am completely consumed with my studies next month and my poor husband will be terribly neglected. In fact, we are thinking of getting a cat to keep him company!"

Sherlock frowned. "A cat? Absolutely not! We had definitely settled on a dog!"

Molly laughed at her husband's objection. "Oh had we? And when exactly did we settle on such a decision?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, searching the memory banks and being forced to sheepishly produce the answer that his wife naturally expected. "Perhaps it was...not out loud?"

Molly smiled at the amused Watsons. "Well, apparently we still have to discuss the fate of what poor Toby's species will be."

"And for now," John said, looking fondly at Mary. "I believe I should not waste the opportunity to dance with my wife, seeing as there is no baby in her arms at the moment."

Mary grinned at the Holmes and took John's arm to walk toward the dance floor.

Sherlock stepped over a little closer to Molly, reaching down and covertly threading their fingers together as he leaned down to speak softly in her ear.

"Did you absolutely have to look _this_ fetching tonight, Mrs. Holmes?"

Molly laughed softly as her cheeks got a little pink. "I would have looked far more fetching if you hadn't rumpled my hair so terribly before we came downstairs!"

"It honestly could not be avoided," Sherlock replied with a completely straight face, which made Molly giggle more. After a moment, he leaned down and whispered again. "It seems that your idea to invite Inspector Lestrade was indeed a wise one."

Molly grinned as her gaze followed Sherlock's and landed on the Inspector who was currently having an animated conversation with Rebecca Hooper, who was all smiles.

"You see, I knew it would work so wonderfully if he were here!" Molly said excitedly. "At least one of the Hooper women shouldn't have to wait for nearly seven years to find marital happiness!" She gave Sherlock a gentle nudge.

"But _you_ are the one who has ended up with the superior detective, so there is that to be grateful for," Sherlock replied with a cocky smile.

Just then, Sherlock caught his Mycroft's eye just outside of the ballroom as he headed down the hall.

Sherlock squeezed Molly's hand. "Excuse me, darling, I'll be back in a few minutes…there's just one thing I need to take care of."

"Yes, well you'd better not be long! I've apparently got quite a lot to prove on the dance floor this evening. There are some who continue to doubt my abilities!" Molly threw him a little wink as he walked away.

Sherlock followed the direction his brother had gone and found him in the study, as he expected. Mycroft stood quietly watching the small flame in the fireplace and he turned when Sherlock entered the room.

"Ah, good evening, brother mine. Enjoying the festivities?" His deflated tone suggested that he himself was not.

"Only some of them," Sherlock replied, coming over to stand opposite Mycroft in front of the fireplace.

"Mummy and Daddy seem to be enjoying themselves, so I suppose the ordeal is a success. Perhaps we can now avoid further events of this magnitude for another year or so!"

"Unless you're beginning to feel left out," Sherlock said with a smirk. "Perhaps there will be more wedding bells in the future!"

Mycroft made a face that suggested something foul smelling had recently been uncovered. "Change the subject. Especially because you are clearly not here to discuss me…you are here to discuss your own marriage." He gave his brother a know it all look.

"Indeed I am," Sherlock admitted, and then he reached into his jacket pocket, producing folded papers. "I wanted to return this to you. I find that it is no longer necessary…or valid."

Mycroft took the papers from his brother and unfolded them, though he was already hardly in the dark as to what it was. He glanced down at the divorce document and then back at Sherlock. "I see…" He gave his brother a discerning stare. "And are you quite sure about this?"

Sherlock looked back at Mycroft with both seriousness and sincerity, allowing himself to be completely transparent. "I have never been more sure of anything in my life."

Mycroft's brow rose and he nodded thoughtfully. "I confess that I am not entirely shocked…obviously I was able to make deductions that you yourself missed." He grinned proudly. "Although, I admit that my estimation in length of time was rather far off. You managed to reach this conclusion in almost blinding speed!"

Sherlock chuckled as he began walking back towards the door. "As much as I would adore continuing to hear about how perceptive you were about my marriage, I really must return to the party…my wife is awaiting a dance," he said, looking back at his brother with a rather pleased grin.

"Mustn't keep her waiting," Mycroft agreed, but before his brother left he spoke again. "And Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned again.

"My sincere congratulations to you and Mrs. Holmes," Mycroft added, and he clearly meant it. After he finished speaking the words, he tossed the divorce documents into the fire with a quick flick of his wrist, and then smiled at Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled in return and then walked back to join the party.

Mycroft walked away from the fire as well, standing in the study doorway which afforded a view of the ballroom. He watched as his brother whisked Molly onto the dance floor, joining the other couples in a lively waltz. They exchanged words and glances that were meant for nobody but them, and it looked for all the world like they believed they were the only man and woman on that dance floor. They carried pleasant little secrets between them as they took smooth steps across the marble tiles. Even Mycroft couldn't help smiling softly to himself at the sight.

Things were just as they should be.

And there, lying atop the logs in the slow burning fireplace were those quickly forgotten sheets of paper, ones that would have signified the end of Sherlock and Molly Holmes. The corners had only just begun to slowly curl as the flames could barely reach it.

But by chance, over at the other side of the room, one of the windows had been left open and as if summoned, a summer breeze came traveling in, barely strong enough to reach all the way to the fireplace…but it was just enough.

That bit of wind supplied just the touch of oxygen that the weakened flames needed in order to thrive, and then thrive they did. The fire soon climbed a few inches higher than it had before, easily engulfing the entire pile of logs, and of course everything else that had been deliberately placed in the fireplace. In a matter of seconds, every potentially legally binding word, name, and date was consumed and reduced to nothing but meaningless ashes and a now rather amusing memory. The only thing left visible to the naked eye was, fittingly, a magnificently strong and beautiful flame.

All that…just from a gentle breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was all so stinking fun, I can't even begin to express! Many thanks again to Lexie for all her help, including the amazing art. I come away from this with some pretty amusing memories of all the planning and behind the scenes "bloopers" haha! We got pretty silly quite a few times! :P  
> Please drop me a line and let me know if you enjoyed this! And who knows, perhaps I'll have something new again soon...we shall see! ;))

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PodFic] Zephyr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239111) by [DefinitelyNotPie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefinitelyNotPie/pseuds/DefinitelyNotPie), [Writingwife83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83)




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